[Guilty Gear] Three Degrees to the Right, Part 6
Title: Three Degrees to the Right
Fandom: Guilty Gear
Part: 6/12
Characters: Sol, Ky
Rating: PG-15
Warnings: violence
Notes: Life-signs and white noise.
Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Part XI | Part XII
Three Degrees to the Right
Part VI
"Look, snow."
The remark barely got any reaction from the group of men holed up in one of the ruined buildings, sharing ration bars and tending to each other's injuries.
They were resting for the first time since their arrival, conducting one foray after the other, often with no luck at all. Although every survivor was a success, they had dwindled into nothing the farther they went. Most of the districts were devastated and crawling with Gears, hardly even a body left behind. That had taken its toll on them more than anything else, and although everyone had known what the chances would be, it was still hard to accept.
"Early this year," the soldier said, holding out his palm to catch the flakes drifting down from the sky.
"Oh damn, not snow. It's already cold enough," a tall, lanky man grumbled, bundling himself tighter into his overcoat as he chewed on his ration bar.
"It's not that cold, really. And snow means it'll actually be less-"
"How can you even tell?" another asked, shaking off the fine layer of grayish flakes that had settled on his head and shoulders. "Ash… snow… not like there's a difference."
"Except one doesn’t mean dead people."
"Gee, thanks for reminding us, Mirko. You're such a bundle of sunshine, you know that? God forbid we forget that for even a second," the first man said, his hand curling into a fist.
"I don't really care what the fuck it is, it's still fucking freezing," the tall soldier muttered, moving to take another bite of his ration bar only to realize that it was already gone, nothing but the empty wrapping crinkling in his hand.
"You can have mine," a young man leaned over, offering him a fresh one. "I mean, you've been at it for so long, and…" He shrugged.
"Not like that's gonna make it any less cold."
Despite the complaint, the bar was snatched away, the soldier wolfing it down with an enthusiasm that belied his tough act. He was tired; they all were, but as a magic user, he was feeling the exhaustion twice as much as everyone else.
"You need one?" the medic asked, holding up a sealed pack of syringes, a pale golden liquid sloshing within. "It'd help with the drain effects."
"Will you stop it with the fucking drugs. I'm already shot up like a bunny on speed. Not looking forward to dying of brain hemorrhage, thank you very much."
"Suit yourself. You just want Alexej to warm you up. Isn't that right, Alexej?"
The young man sat bolt-upright, his face rapidly flushing a shade of crimson. "No, it's not! What the hell are you blathering about?!"
"Aw, innit sweet-"
"Guys, could you fucking keep it down," another interjected, frowning at the entire group in disapproval. "How about a bit of decorum. What's the Commander gonna think if he hears you spoutin' all that crap?"
"He's going to think that he has hard-working soldiers who have really earned a break," Ky replied in Russian, turning his attention from the empty streets to flash them a quick smile.
"Oh, fu-I mean, sorry, sir!" Alexej blurted, turning even redder, while the rest of them ducked their heads like a group of chastised children. Clearly, they had been under the impression that he wouldn't understand them.
"Won't happen again, sir! If you'd please overlook-I mean, disregard-dammit. They're really just being idiots, sir."
"Didn't you hear me, soldier?" Ky said gently. "I just said, we all deserve a break."
"Sir! Thank you, sir!"
Ky shook his head, still smiling, and turned his gaze back to the street.
"A break, sir, and yet you're all the way up there?" the squad captain asked, a hulking man at least thrice Ky's own age, shuffling over to peer up at him with concern. "Begging your pardon, but I don't think I've seen you have enough of those, either. And you've been casting non-stop."
He waved one of the rations.
"I'm fi-"
A strange trilling moan caused everyone to flinch.
The jovial mood evaporated as the soldiers scrambled for their weapons, positioning themselves along the jagged walls. Ky slid back on his perch, eyes fixed on the street, the Furaiken coming alive with a soft hum.
The groan resounded again, before a house front on the opposite side collapsed, toppling into the row of buildings on their side. A Gear heaved itself into view, the concrete crushed under its feet like grain. For a moment, it just stood there, gazing around, before turning to follow the street southward.
A second one waltzed into view, followed by a third and fourth, an entire herd slowly making its way down the street.
None of the men dared to breathe as the massive bodies stalked past, bony thorns the size of a man's trunk decorating the head and back. Ky caught a glimpse of several fingers twitching towards triggers, and quickly signaled them to hold fire.
One by one, the Gears vanished around a bend in the road, though it took considerably longer for the soldiers to relax the grip on their weapons.
The first sigh sounded like an explosion in the deathly stillness, the entire group wincing as one of them doubled over to rest his forehead against his halberd.
"Geez, don't scare us like that, man."
Amidst the half-hearted complaints, another soldier looked up at Ky. "Is it really okay to let them go like this, sir?"
Still staring in the direction in which the Gears had left, Ky shook his head. "That way is just a wasteland. We ought to save our strength."
Against his ear, the radio gave off a burst of static.
"Squad Zeta-6… passed checkpoint… requesting…"
"Come again, Zeta-6?"
More crackling. "Passed checkpoint N67, sir-something's messing wi… with the radio, we can't…"
"Zeta-6? Come in, Zeta-6." Ky adjusted the earpiece, receiving nothing but heavy static, and then-
"…hello…?!"
The voice wasn't any he recognized, certainly none of the squad leaders, high-pitched and bewildered.
"Who…?"
"…sir, sir… got someone! Someone's there!"
"This is Commander Kiske. State your name and location."
A pause, and when the voice came again, it was almost too loud, cracking in elation and disbelief. "…can't be, can't-Sir! Commander, sir! This is… 47th division of the Moscow Defense Corps! Requesting assistance, sir!"
Ky's eyes widened. "What's your status?"
"We're under siege at Savior Cathedral, sir. Got the entire church full of refugees-we're running low on supplies. It's not looking good."
"Understood. Hold your position, don't try to fight your way out. If you can, give me an estimate on the enemy and the number of wounded along the way."
A noise on the other end that was half laugh, half sob. "Will do, sir, will do. Thank you so much. When we couldn't raise anyone-but I knew you'd come for us, sir."
Ky bit his lip, pushing back the bitter thoughts. "Just hang in there, soldier. We'll be there as soon as we can."
-----
"Sir!"
A spear hurtled past his shoulder, slamming a Gear into the wall.
Ky didn't have time to register more than that, busy cutting a swath through an entire pack of the creatures-tall like bears, but agile like greyhounds, swinging their tails like morning stars. They toppled in his wake, blood spilling across the ground.
Next to him, another soldier pulled his sword free, the sweat pouring down his face and back, mixing with the splotches of red staining both their coats.
"We move."
The clatter of equipment resounded as the snipers left their perches, the squad falling back into a tight formation as they pressed on, weaving their way through the ruins. Remnants of walls and chunks of stone barely provided adequate cover, a maze teeming with Gears-and in the middle of it, rising like a symbol of defiance, the white cathedral.
As they were drawing closer, Ky was able to make out the lizards circling the spires, columns of smoke rising between them. Over the last hour, the counterfire had steadily begun to weaken, humans and weaponry alike running out of energy.
"Watch out, there's-"
The rest got lost in a yelp as the scout was forced to take a backwards plunge off the wall, claws embedding themselves in the stone where he had been crouching not a second ago.
A thunder spell flew from Ky's fingertips, knocking the creature out of the air in mid-leap, landing in a sizzling heap right between the soldier's legs. The man let out a startled curse, one of his comrades grabbing him by the collar and half-dragging him to safety.
"Fall back! Here they come!"
Spells and guns could only take out so many before the horde came pouring over the wall, first pouncing upon their own fallen comrades.
Brutal as it might have been, it was a sufficient distraction, the close-range fighters able to find their equilibrium in battle. They had learned very early on to leave Ky his own space and not try to cover him, allowing him to move across the battleground as fast and freely as he could.
The Gears quickly converged on him, and he released another spell, balls of sparking electricity frying them to cardiac arrest. Some of them stumbled back up, their flesh melting off their bones, and were met with the sweeping strikes of the Furaiken, cleaving them in half from shoulder to hip.
"There's no end to these bastards!" one of the soldiers shouted, flinging one of the carcasses into the pack that had decided to go after him.
Blades of wind took out two of them, a mage running to find a better angle of attack. "What, don't tell me you expected them to bow out just 'cause we asked nicely!"
Another wave of lightning tore through the reinforcements, dizzying columns swirling around and into each other, leaving a smoking mess in their wake. He knew he was being reckless, not conserving his energy like he ought to, but they were running out of time. The counterfire from the church had almost dwindled into nothing, irregular blasts of gunfire the only signs that it hadn't been taken yet.
"Sir, you-"
"We need to hurry."
In a way, fighting on open terrain was preferable to this-the battlefield was even and easy to survey, unlikely to hold anything unexpected in store except for new breeds of atrocities. It was easier to move around instead of finding one's way through a labyrinth of destruction, the surroundings as much an enemy as the Gears themselves, crumbling when anyone so much as brushed past them.
More than once, an archway came crashing down just as they had ducked through, passageways collapsing right in front of their eyes and forcing them to further exhaust themselves by climbing.
Intermittently, the voice from the church would filter through his radio to report on the situation, hoarse and breathless, wavering between fear and hope. There was no way, he knew, no way he could ever right the wrongs that had been committed here, and to hear that person, still so faithful, so glad not to have been forgotten, made him grit his teeth and struggle for calm every time.
It didn't help that all he could do to reassure them was to make vague promises that all sounded the same to him, but meant everything to these men. His men.
Almost there, almost... so God will.
Ky had nearly lost track of the number of streets they had cut their way through, so it was almost a surprise to vault over a wall, and be confronted with the white-washed walls of the outskirts of the cathedral complex.
A raygun blast streaked right above his head, forcing him to fall into a crouch.
"Hold your fire!"
"Wha-?!"
"Do we look like Gears to you?" one of the squad complained, dropping down next to Ky. "Taking the Commander's head off, honestly..."
"The Commander?!"
Two soldiers peered out from behind a large boulder a ways away, their faces covered in blood and grime, their eyes gradually widening as they realized whom they had been targeting.
"Sir! Oh, sir! So sorry, we didn't mean to-"
"You're really...!"
"It's quite alright." Ky straightened. "Reinforcements are on their way as we speak. Please take us to your CO so we can be of assistance."
"O-of course, sir."
They stumbled out of their hiding place, still gazing at him and the rest of the squad as if they were apparitions brought on by the first stages of delirium. Their muscles were trembling with fatigue as they attempted to salute, undoubtedly from what had to be hours of lying in wait, with their fingers poised at the trigger.
"It's right this way, sir, if-"
The wall exploded in a rain of bricks and dust.
The men were thrown to the ground as the giant body came barreling through, a whiplash tail bringing the rest of the wall crashing down as it whirled to zero in on its prey... Not him, not his squad, but the two helpless gunners on the other side.
It charged before Ky even had a chance to right himself, and he knew even as he called upon the magic that it wouldn't be enough, it wouldn't be in time-
Something slammed into the creature, sending it careening right into the side of the church. A scream, and a burst of fire, and then nothing but silence.
A figure materialized in the dust, pulling a giant, unwieldy sword from the Gear's torn middle.
"I heard you were starting a party, and I wasn't invited," Sol said casually, shaking blood and shreds of innards from his uniform. "So I just had to come see what that was all about. Entrees sucked, by the way."
Ky clambered to his feet, pushing down astonishment and elation in favor of helping the shocked soldiers to their feet. "I wanted to send you an invite. Except you never did manage to answer your damn phone."
"So sorry to stand you up. My operator got eaten. Along with the phone."
"Sol."
Predictably, Sol didn't even react to the reprimand. "The rest were too slow, so I ditched them. Should get here in a bit, though, we picked up a couple more squads on the way. They're pushing through from the east."
"Understood."
"What, no pats? This date is turning out to be a disappointment."
"I'll gladly discuss all the ways in which you're an irresponsible bastard later. For now..." Ky turned to nod at the Moscow guardsmen. "Please lead the way."
"Y-yes, sir."
After rounding one of the spires, they ducked into an alcove. The paving there was intact for the most part, identical tiles lining up to form patterns, but upon flipping a hidden switch, one slid back to reveal a trap door with a set of ancient stone stairs.
"Please watch your step, Sir Kiske, this corridor leads through the crypt."
"You sure you won't have any more people aiming for the Commander down there?" the squad captain joked as they ducked into the passage, but was met with two appalled stares.
"Of course not, sir! We have our hands full just watching the actual exits..."
The tile slid closed behind them.
"How many are you?" Ky asked, cautiously feeling his way along the rough stone of the corridor. Most of the soldiers were forced to duck their heads to avoid the low ceiling, Sol's wide shoulders brushing the walls as he walked.
"When the sentry system started going haywire, Lieutenant Sokol told us to get everyone we could and take them to safety. We've got over one and a half thousand civilians in the cathedral, sir. The lieutenant's got the coordinates for the other locations, but... we're not sure how many made it. There's just forty-three of us left here, and we lost contact when the radio network was killed."
Ky lowered his head, clamping down on the anger surging up once more. Forty-three soldiers defending a church for more than twelve hours, each passing hour killing their hopes a little more. "I apologize."
"Sir?"
Any reply he might have had got lost in a loud scraping sound, another stone tile sliding back to reveal a shaft of light, and the soft murmuring of many voices from above. As they emerged from the ground, a nearby soldier turned as much as the multitude of cables around his neck would allow.
"Sergej, what are you doing... here..." He trailed off, his eyes growing wide. "Sir!"
Ky had to stop himself from wincing at the sheer amount of happiness in his voice, the same voice he had been talking to for the past few hours. Heads turned as the man tried to get up from the floor, nearly knocking over the radio apparatus in his enthusiasm. A shiver of unrest went through the crowd, tired, frightened faces staring at him, incredulous whispers running back and forth.
"Sir, thank you so much. I knew you'd come, I just knew-" The man interrupted himself, struggling to calm down. "How's the situation, sir?"
"Where is Lieutenant Sokol?"
"Oh." His face darkened. "A Gear got him, nearly took off his arm. They've been working on patching him up, but I don't know how well it's going-"
"Well enough to ask what the fuck is going on here."
The people shifted as another soldier pushed through, one side of his uniform tattered and stiff with blood. He was bandaged from shoulder to waist, wearing his right arm in a makeshift sling, more blood slowly seeping through the dressings. His other arm was badly burnt, the skin a darkened, gleaming mess.
"Lieutenant, sir! You shouldn't be up, you're-"
"Where the hell have you been, huh?" Sokol demanded, not even bothering to lower his voice. "Where the hell have you been, you fucking prancing assholes with your glorious rescue squad?!"
He shoved past his stunned subordinates to stare down Ky, pure, unadulterated fury blazing in his eyes.
"Where! Is this how you treat people fighting for that fucking cross, by letting them die like goddamn idiot martyrs?!" He reached out, grabbing Ky by the shoulder with his burnt arm. "Look at this, Commander. Look at them. This is what I got told to hold the fucking line for! People! Living, breathing, goddamn real people! And your putzes are telling me to fucking wait?!"
"Sir!"
Ky shook his head, carefully dislodging the lieutenant's grip from his shoulder and meeting his gaze. "I can't offer any words that will convince you of my sincerity. But..."
He reached into the pack at his belt to withdraw a roll of gauze, the lieutenant going very still as he began to wrap the burns. "...we're here now."
------
"Sir?"
The word was hardly louder than a whisper, but spoken in the arching space of the cathedral ship, it still rose above the buzz of voices, echoing between the columns.
"What."
It was strange how the mere architecture of a place could hush people, silence them in an acoustically-induced version of humility. Strange, how it happened even to him, could make him lower his voice just to avoid having half the church freeze up and stare at him in this half-fearful, half-hopeful fashion, searching his expression for a hint of salvation or damnation, every time.
"Um. There's a transmission, sir." The soldier fidgeted.
"He's over there." Sol jerked his chin towards the center aisle.
"Erm."
Of course, he had a fair idea about what was keeping the soldier here, nervously hovering around a disgruntled guy with no command status at all rather than trying to approach the Supreme Commander.
The kid was still at it, walking along the aisles, distributing supplies and kind words among the refugees even long after the healers had made their rounds. At the moment, he was bending down to an old woman, patting her hands and smiling as if he'd taken a lease on the wellspring of eternally faithful confidence.
The scene was entirely too much like the wall paintings for comfort. All that was missing, really, was the damn halo.
"Give me that."
Snatching the sheaf of paper from the soldier's hands, Sol trudged over, simply stepping over the legs and belongings in his way.
"Delivery for you."
Ky glanced at him, before slowly pulling his hands from the old woman's grasp. "I'll be right back, ma'am."
She barely seemed to register his words as they moved away, muttering to herself in broken Russian and wiping at her eyes.
As soon as they were out of earshot, the kid shook his head, his entire countenance changing as he accepted the transmission. "They're ready to take the next group. The Slava was forced to touch down several kilometers south of the intended location to avoid detection. That's a good four kilometers from the last point."
"More than that. There's a stretch rife with the local fauna between us and the target."
Ky looked at him. "But you have an alternative route in mind."
Sol shrugged. "Bit of a detour, but it should keep the nastiest stuff off our backs."
"How much?"
"Two, maybe three kilometers more."
"At least twelve in total, then. We won't manage that much, not with the elderly." He frowned deeply, before waving a soldier closer. "Alright. We'll reorganize the groups. Move any old and wounded to the first group. Assign additional manpower to protect them. The Eudoxia is much closer, they should be able to make it."
"Understood, sir."
"Commander!"
The shout rebounded from the walls of the cathedral, causing everyone to flinch and stare as another soldier made his way towards them, carrying the heavy communication unit and almost stumbling over the pews in his haste.
"Keep your voice down, Sergeant," Ky admonished, directing a reassuring nod at the worried gazes that had settled on them. "What's the matter?"
"My apologies, sir. It's just-the Askold, sir. The Askold's gone!"
"An attack?"
"We don't know-there was no transmission, not even an SOS. Epifaniy says it's just up and vanished from the radar, sir."
"Put me through to the Epifaniy," Ky ordered, a spark of worry flickering and dying in his eyes as soon as it had appeared.
The soldier was adjusting dials and punching buttons, the device beeping its acquiescence. "You're through, sir."
Ky took the receiver. "Lieutenant?"
"Andreyev here, sir."
"What's the Askold's last known position?"
"Fifteen kilometers south of your current location, sir. Their last transmission said they were approaching to land. Ten minutes later, it disappeared from all sensors. We've been trying to raise them, but..."
Sol frowned. "Well, not even a Gear attack is this quick. Unless it got blown up-"
"Negative, sir. We've not detected any large-scale explosions in the area."
"-then there should still be a tracking signal."
There was no reply for a moment. "...Negative, sir. I'm sorry."
The kid shook his head, drawing a deep breath. "Alright, Lieutenant. Tell Squad Phi-13 to meet me at Bolshoy Kamenny Bridge. I'll look into the matter. All other squads proceed to their checkpoints as planned. We need to move these people out."
"Yes, sir." A pause. "Please be careful out there."
The line went dead. Ky adjusted the straps on his gloves, any trace of softness gone from his features as he addressed the operator. "You have your orders, Sergeant. Proceed with the evacuation, and tell Captain Miklos he'll be leading the first group in my place. Sol?"
"And here I thought you'd try to send me to play meat shield for the crocheting club," Sol said, a smirk curling at the corners of his mouth. Not that he was about to protest an assignment that suited his intentions, as it certainly was nice to see the kid was learning, but it did bear mentioning.
"You assume I'm delusional enough to believe that you'd follow these orders for even five minutes," Ky said, drawing his sword. "You're coming with me. I have a bad feeling about this."
-----
"Are those really the last known coordinates?"
They were moving through the remains of a toppled building, perhaps a former skyscraper, broken glass and furniture from forever ago littering the floors. Their boots were leaving long streaks in the dirt, dust and ash swirling around them.
Sol was holding up one of the half-collapsed steel supports around the exit for Ky to pass through, letting it crash to the ground right after.
The kid barely reacted, all of his attention focused on the mystery of the disappearing ship.
"Positive, sir. It should be right beyond here."
"Should've been able to see it, then," Sol said, voicing what everyone had been trying to avoid putting into words.
The Askold might have been one of their smaller ships, but at thirty meters in height, it was still considerably larger than a capsized building.
"It can't just have vanished into thin air, though. If anything-"
Rounding the last mound of debris, everyone fell abruptly silent.
"...Fucking hell."
Those were the only words that could adequately describe the sight stretching before them. What should have been a plaza had become a giant crater, the ground dropping away into pitch blackness as if the earth had simply opened up to swallow anything on the surface.
"My God," Ky murmured softly among the hissed oaths from the rest of the squad, stepping closer to the edge of the hole and trying to peer inside. "That's-"
"Large enough to fit an airship through."
"How."
Sol shook his head, inspecting the ground. "Beats me."
"Fine then." Ky straightened, raising his arm to draw the men out of their stupor. "Get the ropes. If the Askold is really down there, we'll find a way to the bottom."
It took a moment for the soldiers to gather their wits and obey his command, their doubtful glances flickering between the treacherous safety of the fallen building and the rim of the crater.
"...If there is a bottom."
-TBC-
-----
A/N: It's absurd how fond I can grow of little flunkies that only show up for a scene or two. Thanks to raging_tofu for checking this one. C&C is appreciated.
Notes for the bored:
- I really don't buy into the "unlimited magical power" trope for humans. So that's why they get special drugs to combat drain effects.
- Rayguns, for the record, are giant rifles. Not the sci-fi equivalents of desperado pistols. xD
- Squad naming system is pretty Spartian, but eh. Better than generating dialogue à la "badger to eagle".
- The Order is metric because most of Europe is metric and I hate converters. *laughs*
<< Return to Part V? | Continue to Part VII? >>
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Fandom: Guilty Gear
Part: 6/12
Characters: Sol, Ky
Rating: PG-15
Warnings: violence
Notes: Life-signs and white noise.
Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Part XI | Part XII
Three Degrees to the Right
Part VI
"Look, snow."
The remark barely got any reaction from the group of men holed up in one of the ruined buildings, sharing ration bars and tending to each other's injuries.
They were resting for the first time since their arrival, conducting one foray after the other, often with no luck at all. Although every survivor was a success, they had dwindled into nothing the farther they went. Most of the districts were devastated and crawling with Gears, hardly even a body left behind. That had taken its toll on them more than anything else, and although everyone had known what the chances would be, it was still hard to accept.
"Early this year," the soldier said, holding out his palm to catch the flakes drifting down from the sky.
"Oh damn, not snow. It's already cold enough," a tall, lanky man grumbled, bundling himself tighter into his overcoat as he chewed on his ration bar.
"It's not that cold, really. And snow means it'll actually be less-"
"How can you even tell?" another asked, shaking off the fine layer of grayish flakes that had settled on his head and shoulders. "Ash… snow… not like there's a difference."
"Except one doesn’t mean dead people."
"Gee, thanks for reminding us, Mirko. You're such a bundle of sunshine, you know that? God forbid we forget that for even a second," the first man said, his hand curling into a fist.
"I don't really care what the fuck it is, it's still fucking freezing," the tall soldier muttered, moving to take another bite of his ration bar only to realize that it was already gone, nothing but the empty wrapping crinkling in his hand.
"You can have mine," a young man leaned over, offering him a fresh one. "I mean, you've been at it for so long, and…" He shrugged.
"Not like that's gonna make it any less cold."
Despite the complaint, the bar was snatched away, the soldier wolfing it down with an enthusiasm that belied his tough act. He was tired; they all were, but as a magic user, he was feeling the exhaustion twice as much as everyone else.
"You need one?" the medic asked, holding up a sealed pack of syringes, a pale golden liquid sloshing within. "It'd help with the drain effects."
"Will you stop it with the fucking drugs. I'm already shot up like a bunny on speed. Not looking forward to dying of brain hemorrhage, thank you very much."
"Suit yourself. You just want Alexej to warm you up. Isn't that right, Alexej?"
The young man sat bolt-upright, his face rapidly flushing a shade of crimson. "No, it's not! What the hell are you blathering about?!"
"Aw, innit sweet-"
"Guys, could you fucking keep it down," another interjected, frowning at the entire group in disapproval. "How about a bit of decorum. What's the Commander gonna think if he hears you spoutin' all that crap?"
"He's going to think that he has hard-working soldiers who have really earned a break," Ky replied in Russian, turning his attention from the empty streets to flash them a quick smile.
"Oh, fu-I mean, sorry, sir!" Alexej blurted, turning even redder, while the rest of them ducked their heads like a group of chastised children. Clearly, they had been under the impression that he wouldn't understand them.
"Won't happen again, sir! If you'd please overlook-I mean, disregard-dammit. They're really just being idiots, sir."
"Didn't you hear me, soldier?" Ky said gently. "I just said, we all deserve a break."
"Sir! Thank you, sir!"
Ky shook his head, still smiling, and turned his gaze back to the street.
"A break, sir, and yet you're all the way up there?" the squad captain asked, a hulking man at least thrice Ky's own age, shuffling over to peer up at him with concern. "Begging your pardon, but I don't think I've seen you have enough of those, either. And you've been casting non-stop."
He waved one of the rations.
"I'm fi-"
A strange trilling moan caused everyone to flinch.
The jovial mood evaporated as the soldiers scrambled for their weapons, positioning themselves along the jagged walls. Ky slid back on his perch, eyes fixed on the street, the Furaiken coming alive with a soft hum.
The groan resounded again, before a house front on the opposite side collapsed, toppling into the row of buildings on their side. A Gear heaved itself into view, the concrete crushed under its feet like grain. For a moment, it just stood there, gazing around, before turning to follow the street southward.
A second one waltzed into view, followed by a third and fourth, an entire herd slowly making its way down the street.
None of the men dared to breathe as the massive bodies stalked past, bony thorns the size of a man's trunk decorating the head and back. Ky caught a glimpse of several fingers twitching towards triggers, and quickly signaled them to hold fire.
One by one, the Gears vanished around a bend in the road, though it took considerably longer for the soldiers to relax the grip on their weapons.
The first sigh sounded like an explosion in the deathly stillness, the entire group wincing as one of them doubled over to rest his forehead against his halberd.
"Geez, don't scare us like that, man."
Amidst the half-hearted complaints, another soldier looked up at Ky. "Is it really okay to let them go like this, sir?"
Still staring in the direction in which the Gears had left, Ky shook his head. "That way is just a wasteland. We ought to save our strength."
Against his ear, the radio gave off a burst of static.
"Squad Zeta-6… passed checkpoint… requesting…"
"Come again, Zeta-6?"
More crackling. "Passed checkpoint N67, sir-something's messing wi… with the radio, we can't…"
"Zeta-6? Come in, Zeta-6." Ky adjusted the earpiece, receiving nothing but heavy static, and then-
"…hello…?!"
The voice wasn't any he recognized, certainly none of the squad leaders, high-pitched and bewildered.
"Who…?"
"…sir, sir… got someone! Someone's there!"
"This is Commander Kiske. State your name and location."
A pause, and when the voice came again, it was almost too loud, cracking in elation and disbelief. "…can't be, can't-Sir! Commander, sir! This is… 47th division of the Moscow Defense Corps! Requesting assistance, sir!"
Ky's eyes widened. "What's your status?"
"We're under siege at Savior Cathedral, sir. Got the entire church full of refugees-we're running low on supplies. It's not looking good."
"Understood. Hold your position, don't try to fight your way out. If you can, give me an estimate on the enemy and the number of wounded along the way."
A noise on the other end that was half laugh, half sob. "Will do, sir, will do. Thank you so much. When we couldn't raise anyone-but I knew you'd come for us, sir."
Ky bit his lip, pushing back the bitter thoughts. "Just hang in there, soldier. We'll be there as soon as we can."
-----
"Sir!"
A spear hurtled past his shoulder, slamming a Gear into the wall.
Ky didn't have time to register more than that, busy cutting a swath through an entire pack of the creatures-tall like bears, but agile like greyhounds, swinging their tails like morning stars. They toppled in his wake, blood spilling across the ground.
Next to him, another soldier pulled his sword free, the sweat pouring down his face and back, mixing with the splotches of red staining both their coats.
"We move."
The clatter of equipment resounded as the snipers left their perches, the squad falling back into a tight formation as they pressed on, weaving their way through the ruins. Remnants of walls and chunks of stone barely provided adequate cover, a maze teeming with Gears-and in the middle of it, rising like a symbol of defiance, the white cathedral.
As they were drawing closer, Ky was able to make out the lizards circling the spires, columns of smoke rising between them. Over the last hour, the counterfire had steadily begun to weaken, humans and weaponry alike running out of energy.
"Watch out, there's-"
The rest got lost in a yelp as the scout was forced to take a backwards plunge off the wall, claws embedding themselves in the stone where he had been crouching not a second ago.
A thunder spell flew from Ky's fingertips, knocking the creature out of the air in mid-leap, landing in a sizzling heap right between the soldier's legs. The man let out a startled curse, one of his comrades grabbing him by the collar and half-dragging him to safety.
"Fall back! Here they come!"
Spells and guns could only take out so many before the horde came pouring over the wall, first pouncing upon their own fallen comrades.
Brutal as it might have been, it was a sufficient distraction, the close-range fighters able to find their equilibrium in battle. They had learned very early on to leave Ky his own space and not try to cover him, allowing him to move across the battleground as fast and freely as he could.
The Gears quickly converged on him, and he released another spell, balls of sparking electricity frying them to cardiac arrest. Some of them stumbled back up, their flesh melting off their bones, and were met with the sweeping strikes of the Furaiken, cleaving them in half from shoulder to hip.
"There's no end to these bastards!" one of the soldiers shouted, flinging one of the carcasses into the pack that had decided to go after him.
Blades of wind took out two of them, a mage running to find a better angle of attack. "What, don't tell me you expected them to bow out just 'cause we asked nicely!"
Another wave of lightning tore through the reinforcements, dizzying columns swirling around and into each other, leaving a smoking mess in their wake. He knew he was being reckless, not conserving his energy like he ought to, but they were running out of time. The counterfire from the church had almost dwindled into nothing, irregular blasts of gunfire the only signs that it hadn't been taken yet.
"Sir, you-"
"We need to hurry."
In a way, fighting on open terrain was preferable to this-the battlefield was even and easy to survey, unlikely to hold anything unexpected in store except for new breeds of atrocities. It was easier to move around instead of finding one's way through a labyrinth of destruction, the surroundings as much an enemy as the Gears themselves, crumbling when anyone so much as brushed past them.
More than once, an archway came crashing down just as they had ducked through, passageways collapsing right in front of their eyes and forcing them to further exhaust themselves by climbing.
Intermittently, the voice from the church would filter through his radio to report on the situation, hoarse and breathless, wavering between fear and hope. There was no way, he knew, no way he could ever right the wrongs that had been committed here, and to hear that person, still so faithful, so glad not to have been forgotten, made him grit his teeth and struggle for calm every time.
It didn't help that all he could do to reassure them was to make vague promises that all sounded the same to him, but meant everything to these men. His men.
Almost there, almost... so God will.
Ky had nearly lost track of the number of streets they had cut their way through, so it was almost a surprise to vault over a wall, and be confronted with the white-washed walls of the outskirts of the cathedral complex.
A raygun blast streaked right above his head, forcing him to fall into a crouch.
"Hold your fire!"
"Wha-?!"
"Do we look like Gears to you?" one of the squad complained, dropping down next to Ky. "Taking the Commander's head off, honestly..."
"The Commander?!"
Two soldiers peered out from behind a large boulder a ways away, their faces covered in blood and grime, their eyes gradually widening as they realized whom they had been targeting.
"Sir! Oh, sir! So sorry, we didn't mean to-"
"You're really...!"
"It's quite alright." Ky straightened. "Reinforcements are on their way as we speak. Please take us to your CO so we can be of assistance."
"O-of course, sir."
They stumbled out of their hiding place, still gazing at him and the rest of the squad as if they were apparitions brought on by the first stages of delirium. Their muscles were trembling with fatigue as they attempted to salute, undoubtedly from what had to be hours of lying in wait, with their fingers poised at the trigger.
"It's right this way, sir, if-"
The wall exploded in a rain of bricks and dust.
The men were thrown to the ground as the giant body came barreling through, a whiplash tail bringing the rest of the wall crashing down as it whirled to zero in on its prey... Not him, not his squad, but the two helpless gunners on the other side.
It charged before Ky even had a chance to right himself, and he knew even as he called upon the magic that it wouldn't be enough, it wouldn't be in time-
Something slammed into the creature, sending it careening right into the side of the church. A scream, and a burst of fire, and then nothing but silence.
A figure materialized in the dust, pulling a giant, unwieldy sword from the Gear's torn middle.
"I heard you were starting a party, and I wasn't invited," Sol said casually, shaking blood and shreds of innards from his uniform. "So I just had to come see what that was all about. Entrees sucked, by the way."
Ky clambered to his feet, pushing down astonishment and elation in favor of helping the shocked soldiers to their feet. "I wanted to send you an invite. Except you never did manage to answer your damn phone."
"So sorry to stand you up. My operator got eaten. Along with the phone."
"Sol."
Predictably, Sol didn't even react to the reprimand. "The rest were too slow, so I ditched them. Should get here in a bit, though, we picked up a couple more squads on the way. They're pushing through from the east."
"Understood."
"What, no pats? This date is turning out to be a disappointment."
"I'll gladly discuss all the ways in which you're an irresponsible bastard later. For now..." Ky turned to nod at the Moscow guardsmen. "Please lead the way."
"Y-yes, sir."
After rounding one of the spires, they ducked into an alcove. The paving there was intact for the most part, identical tiles lining up to form patterns, but upon flipping a hidden switch, one slid back to reveal a trap door with a set of ancient stone stairs.
"Please watch your step, Sir Kiske, this corridor leads through the crypt."
"You sure you won't have any more people aiming for the Commander down there?" the squad captain joked as they ducked into the passage, but was met with two appalled stares.
"Of course not, sir! We have our hands full just watching the actual exits..."
The tile slid closed behind them.
"How many are you?" Ky asked, cautiously feeling his way along the rough stone of the corridor. Most of the soldiers were forced to duck their heads to avoid the low ceiling, Sol's wide shoulders brushing the walls as he walked.
"When the sentry system started going haywire, Lieutenant Sokol told us to get everyone we could and take them to safety. We've got over one and a half thousand civilians in the cathedral, sir. The lieutenant's got the coordinates for the other locations, but... we're not sure how many made it. There's just forty-three of us left here, and we lost contact when the radio network was killed."
Ky lowered his head, clamping down on the anger surging up once more. Forty-three soldiers defending a church for more than twelve hours, each passing hour killing their hopes a little more. "I apologize."
"Sir?"
Any reply he might have had got lost in a loud scraping sound, another stone tile sliding back to reveal a shaft of light, and the soft murmuring of many voices from above. As they emerged from the ground, a nearby soldier turned as much as the multitude of cables around his neck would allow.
"Sergej, what are you doing... here..." He trailed off, his eyes growing wide. "Sir!"
Ky had to stop himself from wincing at the sheer amount of happiness in his voice, the same voice he had been talking to for the past few hours. Heads turned as the man tried to get up from the floor, nearly knocking over the radio apparatus in his enthusiasm. A shiver of unrest went through the crowd, tired, frightened faces staring at him, incredulous whispers running back and forth.
"Sir, thank you so much. I knew you'd come, I just knew-" The man interrupted himself, struggling to calm down. "How's the situation, sir?"
"Where is Lieutenant Sokol?"
"Oh." His face darkened. "A Gear got him, nearly took off his arm. They've been working on patching him up, but I don't know how well it's going-"
"Well enough to ask what the fuck is going on here."
The people shifted as another soldier pushed through, one side of his uniform tattered and stiff with blood. He was bandaged from shoulder to waist, wearing his right arm in a makeshift sling, more blood slowly seeping through the dressings. His other arm was badly burnt, the skin a darkened, gleaming mess.
"Lieutenant, sir! You shouldn't be up, you're-"
"Where the hell have you been, huh?" Sokol demanded, not even bothering to lower his voice. "Where the hell have you been, you fucking prancing assholes with your glorious rescue squad?!"
He shoved past his stunned subordinates to stare down Ky, pure, unadulterated fury blazing in his eyes.
"Where! Is this how you treat people fighting for that fucking cross, by letting them die like goddamn idiot martyrs?!" He reached out, grabbing Ky by the shoulder with his burnt arm. "Look at this, Commander. Look at them. This is what I got told to hold the fucking line for! People! Living, breathing, goddamn real people! And your putzes are telling me to fucking wait?!"
"Sir!"
Ky shook his head, carefully dislodging the lieutenant's grip from his shoulder and meeting his gaze. "I can't offer any words that will convince you of my sincerity. But..."
He reached into the pack at his belt to withdraw a roll of gauze, the lieutenant going very still as he began to wrap the burns. "...we're here now."
------
"Sir?"
The word was hardly louder than a whisper, but spoken in the arching space of the cathedral ship, it still rose above the buzz of voices, echoing between the columns.
"What."
It was strange how the mere architecture of a place could hush people, silence them in an acoustically-induced version of humility. Strange, how it happened even to him, could make him lower his voice just to avoid having half the church freeze up and stare at him in this half-fearful, half-hopeful fashion, searching his expression for a hint of salvation or damnation, every time.
"Um. There's a transmission, sir." The soldier fidgeted.
"He's over there." Sol jerked his chin towards the center aisle.
"Erm."
Of course, he had a fair idea about what was keeping the soldier here, nervously hovering around a disgruntled guy with no command status at all rather than trying to approach the Supreme Commander.
The kid was still at it, walking along the aisles, distributing supplies and kind words among the refugees even long after the healers had made their rounds. At the moment, he was bending down to an old woman, patting her hands and smiling as if he'd taken a lease on the wellspring of eternally faithful confidence.
The scene was entirely too much like the wall paintings for comfort. All that was missing, really, was the damn halo.
"Give me that."
Snatching the sheaf of paper from the soldier's hands, Sol trudged over, simply stepping over the legs and belongings in his way.
"Delivery for you."
Ky glanced at him, before slowly pulling his hands from the old woman's grasp. "I'll be right back, ma'am."
She barely seemed to register his words as they moved away, muttering to herself in broken Russian and wiping at her eyes.
As soon as they were out of earshot, the kid shook his head, his entire countenance changing as he accepted the transmission. "They're ready to take the next group. The Slava was forced to touch down several kilometers south of the intended location to avoid detection. That's a good four kilometers from the last point."
"More than that. There's a stretch rife with the local fauna between us and the target."
Ky looked at him. "But you have an alternative route in mind."
Sol shrugged. "Bit of a detour, but it should keep the nastiest stuff off our backs."
"How much?"
"Two, maybe three kilometers more."
"At least twelve in total, then. We won't manage that much, not with the elderly." He frowned deeply, before waving a soldier closer. "Alright. We'll reorganize the groups. Move any old and wounded to the first group. Assign additional manpower to protect them. The Eudoxia is much closer, they should be able to make it."
"Understood, sir."
"Commander!"
The shout rebounded from the walls of the cathedral, causing everyone to flinch and stare as another soldier made his way towards them, carrying the heavy communication unit and almost stumbling over the pews in his haste.
"Keep your voice down, Sergeant," Ky admonished, directing a reassuring nod at the worried gazes that had settled on them. "What's the matter?"
"My apologies, sir. It's just-the Askold, sir. The Askold's gone!"
"An attack?"
"We don't know-there was no transmission, not even an SOS. Epifaniy says it's just up and vanished from the radar, sir."
"Put me through to the Epifaniy," Ky ordered, a spark of worry flickering and dying in his eyes as soon as it had appeared.
The soldier was adjusting dials and punching buttons, the device beeping its acquiescence. "You're through, sir."
Ky took the receiver. "Lieutenant?"
"Andreyev here, sir."
"What's the Askold's last known position?"
"Fifteen kilometers south of your current location, sir. Their last transmission said they were approaching to land. Ten minutes later, it disappeared from all sensors. We've been trying to raise them, but..."
Sol frowned. "Well, not even a Gear attack is this quick. Unless it got blown up-"
"Negative, sir. We've not detected any large-scale explosions in the area."
"-then there should still be a tracking signal."
There was no reply for a moment. "...Negative, sir. I'm sorry."
The kid shook his head, drawing a deep breath. "Alright, Lieutenant. Tell Squad Phi-13 to meet me at Bolshoy Kamenny Bridge. I'll look into the matter. All other squads proceed to their checkpoints as planned. We need to move these people out."
"Yes, sir." A pause. "Please be careful out there."
The line went dead. Ky adjusted the straps on his gloves, any trace of softness gone from his features as he addressed the operator. "You have your orders, Sergeant. Proceed with the evacuation, and tell Captain Miklos he'll be leading the first group in my place. Sol?"
"And here I thought you'd try to send me to play meat shield for the crocheting club," Sol said, a smirk curling at the corners of his mouth. Not that he was about to protest an assignment that suited his intentions, as it certainly was nice to see the kid was learning, but it did bear mentioning.
"You assume I'm delusional enough to believe that you'd follow these orders for even five minutes," Ky said, drawing his sword. "You're coming with me. I have a bad feeling about this."
-----
"Are those really the last known coordinates?"
They were moving through the remains of a toppled building, perhaps a former skyscraper, broken glass and furniture from forever ago littering the floors. Their boots were leaving long streaks in the dirt, dust and ash swirling around them.
Sol was holding up one of the half-collapsed steel supports around the exit for Ky to pass through, letting it crash to the ground right after.
The kid barely reacted, all of his attention focused on the mystery of the disappearing ship.
"Positive, sir. It should be right beyond here."
"Should've been able to see it, then," Sol said, voicing what everyone had been trying to avoid putting into words.
The Askold might have been one of their smaller ships, but at thirty meters in height, it was still considerably larger than a capsized building.
"It can't just have vanished into thin air, though. If anything-"
Rounding the last mound of debris, everyone fell abruptly silent.
"...Fucking hell."
Those were the only words that could adequately describe the sight stretching before them. What should have been a plaza had become a giant crater, the ground dropping away into pitch blackness as if the earth had simply opened up to swallow anything on the surface.
"My God," Ky murmured softly among the hissed oaths from the rest of the squad, stepping closer to the edge of the hole and trying to peer inside. "That's-"
"Large enough to fit an airship through."
"How."
Sol shook his head, inspecting the ground. "Beats me."
"Fine then." Ky straightened, raising his arm to draw the men out of their stupor. "Get the ropes. If the Askold is really down there, we'll find a way to the bottom."
It took a moment for the soldiers to gather their wits and obey his command, their doubtful glances flickering between the treacherous safety of the fallen building and the rim of the crater.
"...If there is a bottom."
-TBC-
-----
A/N: It's absurd how fond I can grow of little flunkies that only show up for a scene or two. Thanks to raging_tofu for checking this one. C&C is appreciated.
Notes for the bored:
- I really don't buy into the "unlimited magical power" trope for humans. So that's why they get special drugs to combat drain effects.
- Rayguns, for the record, are giant rifles. Not the sci-fi equivalents of desperado pistols. xD
- Squad naming system is pretty Spartian, but eh. Better than generating dialogue à la "badger to eagle".
- The Order is metric because most of Europe is metric and I hate converters. *laughs*
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