Chương 9: Infiltration

Markos stood uncomfortably on a wooden platform with nearly three hundred others, watching as more Scaverians approached them. Pulling out of a vast complex of earthworks, impromptu bunkers, and other defenses carved into the earth, they fell back to the bridge itself. Cold rain splattered down still, less than before, but by now, Markos could do little but shiver from his rain-soaked clothes. He tried to focus on anything besides the chill running through him, his gaze settling on the bridge beside him.

Markos had been on the bridge over the Malden only once, on his way to Trost itself. Going back, the pair of stone towers on either side were less impressive than the massive complex of towers and forts of Trost. A pair of towers with metal viewing decks on top, machine guns mounted periodically up its surface. The garrison stopped the train for inspection in the middle of this, them all quietly waiting while those anti-tank guns aimed at the train.

Markos, the Corporal, and others had recounted the story of what happened on the way here, and that had led to even more of the local troops examining the train for any sign of Travelers. Eventually, they, minus the wounded, train crew, and medical personnel, had been ordered to wait on the platform. It was only ten minutes, but the rain was already unbearable.

Still, finally, the last of those clearing the train were getting out of the cars, reporting to a small gathering of officers who had exited one of the towers. The senior officer was a grim-faced major, scars cutting through mud-brown scale patterns covering most of his face. Either an old hand or very well connected to raise this high with a lineage that low. The breakdown of castes had started back when their gods had died, but old habits took time to die.

The officer began to speak, voice booming over the falling rain. A talent of some kind?

"I need able-bodied volunteers to hold the defensive lines for a while longer. This is not an order. I realize I am asking much of you; those who have already been through a harrowing journey here, many others did not. To order you to risk more at this stage. So I will ask, if anyone wishes to help ensure others will have the same chance you did, please remain on the platform. If you wish to leave, get back onto the train. Hot food and a brief respite from this war awaits you.

But if this defense fails, your respite will be shorter than you could imagine." There was silence after the speech, and then several soldiers went back to the train, a slow trickle that didn't seem to stop. Markos watched, considering his own options. He'd fought already at Trost and barely made it here. Was he going to give that up, risk it all again? Then again, what good would it be getting to the other side of the river only for a Traveler to cross right behind? There'd be no place to hide then.

He waited while others went back to the train. In the end, maybe forty others joined him, including the lieutenant from when Markos had first bordered, taking a position on the Major's side. The Major looked over them all, then began shaking the hands of each soldier in the line, going down the line, muttering something to each of them. When they stopped at Marko, the lieutenant said something to the Major, who nodded before addressing Markos.

"I was told you were the one who found Captain Haskil dead. And that you traveled with him to the train itself?"

"Very briefly, sir. There was another soldier with me; she was wounded, and he helped us get out. I went to thank him and found the body."

"And you choose to stay here instead of continuing onwards." It wasn't phrased like a question, but Markos felt the urge to answer it all the same.

"My choice to make."

"It wasn't a judgment of you soldier," the Major clarified.

"In all honesty, I wish more would choose as you have. Thank you for that." The Major began to move down the line once again, but Markos hurriedly interrupted him.

"Major, before you go, I did grab Lizard tags for him and another in your unit," Markos dug the tags out of his pack, offering them to the Major.

"There was a third member of your unit with us, sir, but I couldn't get his tags, and I can't remember his name," Markos admitted reluctantly. It was shameful, having forgotten the name of the third soldier to help them, but so much had happened since then. The Major took the tags out of Markos' hand. He considered them both, expression unreadable, then simply nodded.

"I appreciate this private. If we both survive this, I'll owe you." The Major pocketed the pair of lizard tags, then turned to the tower. The rest of the accompanying soldiers went with, leaving Markos alone. Waiting a second to see if anything else would happen, Markos went to where the other volunteers had gone, being assigned to various NCOs and junior officers in the space between the two towers. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Eventually, he found himself in front of a red-scaled sergeant, looking him over with her one remaining good eye. The other was little more than a hollowed-out socket, and the exposed bone and cut-open flesh around it could not be healthy.

"Any injuries?" She asked him.

"Legs took some shrapnel, and I'm a little toasted by a sunbeam. My HP total isn't that high either." The sergeant grunted.

"We can work around that. I am already working around a fair bit already. Have you ever been an assistant gunner?"

"Couple of times. Not really trained on it." Mainly in the heat of the moment when the attached machine gun's AG had been shot. Keeping the ammo belt fed correctly was more critical than one extra soldier with a rifle most of the time.

"Good enough. Ferat, I got you a new AG! Take better care of this one!" A large Scaverian, with dull grey scales dotting his rugged face, looked up. He had a machine gun shouldered across his back, and a tripod gripped in one claw. He smiled, the grin unsettling on his face.

"Finally, some fresh meat. Assholes were having me lug this gun all by myself. You know the basics?"

"Done it a few times. What happened to your last assistant gunner?"

"Sniper shot him. Aetherean scouting parties have occasionally been trying to find a way deeper inside. Already had fallen back inside the forest before we realized which direction the shots were coming from. Do me a favor and carry the tripod. Damn thing weighs more than a pack lizard." Markos grabbed the offered tripod, wincing slightly as the machine gunner let go. It was pretty damn heavy. The ammo belts Ferat then draped around his neck just added to the weight.

Aetherean scouts having taken some shots and then leaving wasn't surprising. Hit-and-run tactics were common among the more elite of the Aetherean army. Usually, if you could see one, they'd try to escape and return later to take a shot at you when you least expected it. Aetherean Scouts were one group with more than just a single level in a combat class or a relatively high level in general. So, following Aetherean doctrine, they didn't risk themselves on the field to deny their enemies as much XP as possible.

Most of their ground forces were like the teen Markos had knifed escaping from Trost, young conscripts with maybe a single level under their belts from training.

"Well, hopefully, I'll last you a while longer." Truthfully, a sniper bullet sounded preferable to some of the ways Travelers could and would kill.

"Maybe. Gonna have to deal with the fuckers again just when I was hoping our watch was over. We were pulling back from the outer perimeter when you came in. Now we have to march all the way back there. Bull crap." Ferat snorted, then spat something to the side.

"Only halfway Ferat. Quit your whining. Newbies, orders are simple. We hold the trenches, and when the order comes down, we retreat down the bridge while the engineers collapse sections behind us. Let's move!"

The Major quietly pocketed the lizard tags as he returned up the tower's stairs. He'd sent two to check the northern line, and this was all left of them. There'd be time to mourn for them and many more later. Captain Graeceling and three others were by the railing on the viewing deck, between two set-up machine guns along the deck. She scanned the horizon, slowly sweeping her gaze across each direction they had to defend from.

"Major, still setting the Systemsight up. Just want to be careful who I poke with it."

"A wise precaution, Captain." There was no need to do anything that could alert their enemy that something was occurring at the bridge or about to.

"How far out have you scanned?"

"A few hundred meters. Just giving it a deeper look. Some of their scouts are still lurking in the treeline further back, direction 108. Seven of them, the highest rank is a sergeant, looks to be about level ten. They don't have direct sight on the bridge itself, but they can see the outer earthworks. Falling back now that I've spotted them, but they might come back."

"Tell Captain Jarvin he has a squad of infiltrators in the woods at general direction 108. How he wants them handled is up to his discretion, but I want them gone, preferably without too much noise." Hopefully, the other officer would be capable of that. Jarvin was an unknown to him, commander of an AA unit that had made it back here at the same time the Major had brought the tattered remnants of his battalion in. But he didn't have any other officers. They needed Graeceling in the towers.

Borel and Tores had died in the fighting. Haskell was dead after trying to find organized resistance between here and Trost. Syvoski was injured and barely awake. Captain Graeceling twitched suddenly, her face contorting as a limb slipped on the railing. Her breathing quickened.

"Captain?" Damnations, not now. Not with his soldiers outside their defenses.

"One, only one, seconds away, but that's all they'll need," she hurriedly replied. Her eyes flickered from one spot to another, lightly glowing with an auburn light..

"Alarms now!" He yelled, "I want spotlights on and seeing that forest now. Graeceling, direction?" She pointed towards one of the railroad tracks.

"One there. Two, perhaps…no, only one. More behind, I think, coming as quickly as they can. The first one is bringing an army."

They'd almost reached the trenches when the sirens wailed, a reverberating cry echoing through the air.

"Aw fuck, what is it this time?" Ferat was already taking a knee.

"Set up the tripod and get your own weapon ready." Markos fumbled the heavy metal piece, earning an irritated snarl from Ferat before he adequately set up the metal frame. Back by the towers, searchlights sprang to life, beams of light stabbing through the darkness toward the edges of the forest. They moved about as Markos drew his weapon before snapping to where the northern line went among the trees.

The figure emerging from the trees was short, maybe only a bit over five feet, clad in heavy mail that they moved in like it was cloth. Markos raised his rifle while others were firing, bullets ricocheting off the armor. Enchanted, for sure. He fired, pulled the bolt, got another round ready, and aimed again. The air before the Aetherean or Traveler rippled, suddenly forming into a circular translucent disk.

It flickered before forming into another vista entirely, the side of the hill, on which stood hundreds of humans in grey uniforms. Aethereans, easily a battalion, waiting for this exact moment. They immediately began streaming into the abandoned outer earthworks.