HORTLAK'S STRIFE
A shattered soul moves from one war to another.
Rain on the Plains
Chapter 2
0900
Iron and sand mingled on the tongue. Ringing ears picked up the booms and whistles. The Second Wave had arrived, met by the Bulwark’s retaliatory fire. We had failed.
The blinking eye met Hassan’s blank gaze. Khadeem was behind us, his face ruined. I am all that’s left of the Ocak.
Get up. Get to the Bulwark. The operation may yet succeed.
…
My right arm, my left leg. Why won’t they move?
​
“Cetin!”
Blinked. Stinging in the nostrils. Burning metal, ignited gasoline. Helicopter aflame. Plucked blades, writhing figure inside the cockpit.
Heart pounded, ribs groaned.
“Rasputin!”
True arm reached out, false arm would not respond to commands. Whistles and booms; Jaguars and Jaegers.
The operation may yet succeed! Get to the Bulwark, damn you!
​
“Cetin!”
Small hands seized the shoulders, dragged them away from the burning wreck.
“Rasputin!”
“He’s finished! Kommandir! He’s finished! We can’t help him!”
​
Flash of gunfire. Makarov caught a bounding Dinergate in the camera. She took a step back, fired another shot.
Felt for handgun. Torn holster, fragments of steel and polymer.
Another bang. Two more. A Ripper fell back. Acrid scent of melted polymer; locks of Makarov’s hair were charred.
“You are firing too slow! Take him! I’ll cover you!”
The handgunner glanced back. She fired three more shots, then hurried back. Grunts emitted. The body fell into another set of hands. Dampness across chest, glistening red coated the glove.
Brrrt!
​
Spent casings rained over Skorpion; she lost her beret again.
Scratching against boot-heel. The burning wreck drew further away. A shadow loomed, shelter from the whistling mortars. Another crack of Jaeger fire. The submachine gunner weaved to the side, and the energy bolt grazed her shoulder.
Heart hammered buckling ribs. “Skorpion!”
She hissed, fired again. “Iʼm fine! Everyone! Hurry up!”
Stamping boots. Dolls and guardsmen, some carrying mangled bodies. Three...five...ten…no more. Hollow clink; a canister rolled towards the Sangvis at the gate.
Blinked. Winced. Vision overwhelmed by incandescence.
“Everyone! To the stairs! Hurry!”
“Belay that order.”
Commotion subsided. Cackling flame fading like midnight campfire. Makarov broke the anxious silence, “D-Director? Director Kryuger?”
Berezovich Kryuger’s voice, like lapping waves despite the raging sea, “PK, KS-23, bring up the rear.”
Hanging leg departed floor. True arm stretched against the Director’s broad shoulders. The nerves screamed. Gritted the teeth, cry suppressed into a hiss. He glanced back, then briefly regarded ‘silver hair’ and ‘shark teeth’ as they hurried by him. He then uttered, “Others, follow me.”
Lights grew dim. Clicks and taps followed by silent swears. Kryuger ripped open a panel with his free hand and turned a jack.
Burst of gunfire erupted close behind. Dolls and human staff snapped their weapons towards their rear.
​
“They…will be arriving…soon.”
​
“Pardon?” the warlord inquired, his expression wooden.
“Everyone…to their posts. Check…power…comms. Bring our preparations…to bear.”
​
“After we reach safety.” Kryuger grunted, the hatch gave way. He swung it open and descended into the shuddering abyss. Boots scraped behind us, their every step hounded by the booms outside. Gunshots and hurried steps followed our wake. “Close the hatch after KS-23 and PK make it inside,” Kryuger instructed. A minute later, the order was obeyed.
The arrived dolls brush past the crowd; they all bore battle wounds. Kryuger studied them impassively, then fished a folded paper from his breast pocket. “Check up with the electricians, see what’s holding them up.”
PK quietly received the paper, nodded, and jogged down the dim hallway, with KS-23 following close behind. They suddenly stumbled. Gasps and murmurs. Dust specks dyed Skorpion’s head; the hallway had quaked.
Kryuger frowned and turned his gaze upwards.
“They’ve breached the roof.” Commander Shvets stated.
​
“Chambers One to Three have gone dark.”
The radio buzzed statics, affirming Captain’s fears.
The lungs craved fresh air, trying to excavate it from the all-enveloping stagnancy.
Inhaled. Counted to three. Exhaled.
“Return…to your post…Captain.”
“Cetin!” Captain’s tone was stern like freshly wrought iron. “We’ve been through this! You need at least another person with you in case…”
“I must…remain.”
“Now isn’t the time to be stubborn!”
“Remember…the first day…I held this?” The hand lifted the radio. “I vowed…not to be a mere spectator…to our struggles…remember?”
He paused, stilled his raging heart, clasped his lips into a frown.
“Cetin, listen!”
“Captain!”
The lungs shuddered, strained from the raised voice.
“The Djinn…needs every man…at his post.” Lifted the radio again. “We…lost too…many. Help me…preserve…all…we have left. The Djinn…must survive. Please.”
​
“Cetin! Cetin!”
Blinked. Azure, not orange. Concrete, not brick. Hologram, not paper. Radio statics absent. Where is Captain?
“Still, Director, he shouldn’t be brought here to begin with!”
A black-haired girl in healer’s garments, a pale girl in burgundy…both dwarfed by a bearded man. Doll…Makarov…Grifon’s warlord, Berezovich Kryuger. “He needs the familiarity to ease his transition into the present.”
“Cetin!” Eye…deep blue…Skorpion. “You are back!” White plaster…sealing foam on her right shoulder…left thigh. One pigtail shot off. Makarov…Missing beret, singed hair and charred scalp. Clutching her right chest.
​
Rasputin…writhing within the burning cockpit, his screams suppressed behind the cracking glass.
​
Tactical Map…blank. Loss of communications with UAV. Screens on the walls…CCTVs…Four blue screens, others still transmitting. Barricades on five of them…dolls and men exchanging fire…
“Chambers One to Three have gone dark.”
True fingers felt the headset.
“Chambers One to Three have gone dark.”
“Cetin! What are you…”
The throat felt tight. “Sitrep.”
“Cetin!”
“He’s still in shock.” The chair creaked. Sight left the feeds, met Berezovich Kryuger’s iron gaze. “You are not in Istanbul. You are in Odesa Oblast, Ukraine, and Eighteen is bringing you to safety now.”
“Chambers One to Three have gone dark.”
“Sitrep.”
“Kommandir!” His voice took on a stern tone.
​
“Cetin!” Captain’s tone was stern like freshly wrought iron.
​
“Director, my condition is stable, and this place is safe enough. The Djinn…needs every man…at his post. We…lost too…many…”
Cold jab at the back of the neck. The medic doll took two steps back, stowing an expended injector into her bag. The limbs had ceased trembling, the mind cleared. Inhaled. Counted to three. Exhaled. This is not Istanbul. This is Ukraine. This is a Grifon base.
“The base is still besieged.” Screen three, defenders faltering… “What is the comms situation?”
His expression was stony. “Zenner and short-range radio networks are active. Contact with the UAVs’ still lost.”
“Transceivers…distress calls…” Pain in the ribs interrupted the sighs.
“Cetin…”
​
Waved off Skorpion. “I am fine. I just need…clarity…comprehension…Director…I am not the priority, stabilising this base is. Every able-bodied person…plug breaches, bring transceivers back online.…”
Kryuger exhaled. He unholstered one of his handguns and placed it atop the Tactical Map. “I’ll leave the command to you.”
“Director!”
“Eighteen, get the Kommandir up to speed.” He tapped his card against the device’s touchpad, then pointed at the gun. “And ensure he never needs to use the gun.”
“I don’t need…”
“You will keep her here or relinquish your command.” Kryuger’s tone brooked no arguments.
“I see. Skorpion. Makarov. Escort the Director.”
“But!”
“He will not survive on his own.”
Skorpion’s expression was doubtful, her posture hesitant.
“This place is currently safe, but it will not remain so unless the base is liberated. Help me with this.”
“I-!”
“Please.”
She pursed her lips, then nodded. She turned her attention towards Eighteen. “Barricade the door behind us. And if anything happens to him.…”
“I’m a medic!” The black-haired doll pouted. “I don’t need to be told how to do my job!”
“Swear?”
“Swear!”
“You said it, you do it!” Skorpion lowered her pointing finger and returned her gaze towards the false eye. She showed the back of her arm. Sigh exhaled. We bumped our forearms together. “We’ll be fine, so you better be fine too when we get back.”
“...I will.”
​​
​
​
1032
​
“Hey~ Kommandir~.”
​
Crimson rash winked onto the Tactical Map, rushing up Hallway E.
“Another wave incoming. Are we going to keep holding our position? Our ammo’s not going to last forever, y’know.”
KS-23…out of ammunition. Had resorted to bludgeoning her foes with a Guard’s shield. Her blank-bodies and her teammates would soon deplete theirs.
“We are on our last legs…”
No. Not yet.
​
“Command to Team PK...”
Weigh in the lungs. Heartbeat waning. Lifted the pen and jabbed it into the neck. The throat gasped, “...Sitrep!”
“Team PK to Command, Barracks sealed.”
Epipen clattered on the Tactical Map’s glossy surface. “Command to Team PK…copy.” Throat felt tight. “...Rendezvous with Team 23. …Command to Shield Two, keep the Barracks secured. Command to…Team 23, begin fighting retreat manoeuvre.”
“Ehhhhh.” KS-23 was discontented. “We’ve just taken this position y’know.”
“You hadn’t enough ammunition. Initiate fighting retreat, hold position five-metres south of junction into Hallway D.”
True hand trembling. The heart hammered against the ribcage. Inhaled. Counted to three. Exhaled.
“Command to Team Kar, collect as many ammunition, grenades and blank-bodies as possible and gather at the junction into Hallway E. Hold fire, stay in concealment. Report upon the order’s completion.”
“Ja, Kommandant.”
​
Blue clusters flowed into position. Team PK and Team 23 met up just after the junction. Team Kar moving into position.
Turned attention to the Command Tablet. White text and numbers on the black screen. Blank-bodies, 7.62s, 5.45s, anti-personnel grenades…cannot hold out indefinitely. Ten minutes at most.
“We are on our last legs…”
​
Not yet.
“Command to Shield One, gather everything; ammunition, grenades, blank-body pods. Prepare to establish a supply train.”
“Shield One to Command.” Strained male voice, gasping from stress. “...Copy! Moving right away!”
“Team Kar to Command, we are in position.”
“Copy. Command to Team PK and Team 23, withdraw past the junction. Team Kar, attack the enemy flanks as soon as they expose themselves.”
“Copy.”
Flashes of light on the security feeds.
​
Swaying lights. Yellow Eyes gleaming in the steel-tinted mist.
​
“Skorpion to Command!”
Inhaled. Counted to three. Exhaled.
Sangvis Guards failed to secure their flanks before the grenades struck. Kar98k, Galil, and their blank-bodies surged forth, with Kar98k brandishing her bayonet.
“We’ve checked all over Signals and Cryptography! Still no signs of the Boss! It’s like he’s vanished into thin air!”
Inhaled. Counted to three. Exhaled.
“Command to Skorpion and Makarov, cease the search and join up with the Echelons.”
Red had vanished from the Tactical Map.
“Command to all Doll Echelons, advance towards the Hangar airlock, now! Command to Shield One, follow after them, keep them supplied.”
Affirmations received, blue clusters began their advance. More red erupted to contest their efforts. Digits on the tablet crashed. Two…three…five blue dots evaporated.
​
“Cetin…we are on our last legs.”
Quiet!
​
Tapped on the Tactical Map, brought up another layer. “Command to Skorpion, there should be an entrance into the ventilation ducts.”
“I see it! Above me!”
“Gather some grenades and enter the duct. Head southwards, drop the grenades where the Sangvis is most concentrated.”
“Roger! Hey! Guys! Help me up!”
Blue dot ascended into the ventilation duct, moved southwards. Blue dot floated over a river of red. Then, a clear circle devoured the Sangvis’ midst.
“We’ve got them!” KS-23 howled in the headset. “Idi! Idi! Idi!”
More red emerged to meet Grifon forces at the Hangar airlock. More compatriots fell, yet the spirited cry on the headset would not abate. “Ura!”
​
The sealed airlock cut off the red cluster moments later.
Clammy trembling palm wiped the sweat-slicked forehead. Ribs groaned to the pounding heart. Sigh exhaled. The soul was relieved, yet the flesh remained fretful. The true arm raised up. “Put that away. The danger has yet to pass.”
Eighteen re-capped the injector and stowed it into her pack.
Hovered the true finger towards the headset, check in with Signals. Stopped. The speakers spouted statics. “-R to -MS base. Ple- respond. Team AR to OMS, please respond.”
M4. Team AR. They must be the reason the bombardment ceased an hour ago. What were they doing here?
“Command to Team AR, sitrep.”
“Co-Commander?!” Surprise. Agitation. “Commander! We had been trying to reach you the moment the attack began...Sop II! Dragoons! Five o’clock!”
Ammunition almost depleted, all exits sealed. Dread’s claw latched onto the heart. Inhaled. Counted to three. Exhaled. “Sitrep!”
“We are in the forest, one-and-a-half miles southwest of the base, bombarded by Jaguars. We made contact with...AR-15! Sop II! Ringleader’s back! One o’clock!”
Hologram lit up, revealing surface topography: four blue dots buffeted by the sanguine tide.
“Grifon One, Two and Three to OMS, responding to distress call.”
QRFs from the nearby bases!
“Command to Grifon One, Two and Three. Our base is sealed and our supplies are near depletion! We have an echelon stranded outside, and they’ve made contact with a Ringleader! What is your ETA?”
“Grifon One to OMS, copy. We are expediting transit; ETA ten minutes.”
Ten minutes. Team AR weaved among the uprooted trees and dove into pockmarked earth, their withdrawal hounded by energy bolts. Ten minutes. They would perish in half that time!
“Hang in there.” The headset fell silent, the call concluded.
Opened the mouth. Closed it again. The heart battered the ribs, the true hand was shaking.
M4 returned fire, then tumbled away; her cover had exploded into splinters.
“Cetin…Cetin...we are on our last legs. They did a number on us.”
​
“Kommandir. Your heart rate has spiked to dangerous levels. I need to sedate you.”
Words constricted by the tightening throat. “I do not need sedation.”
“At least let me administer a micro-dose!”
“I do not need sedation!”
The fist’s underside ached. Eighteen frowned. Inhaled. Exhaled.
​
“Dead. Phillipes will join them soon. *coughs* I don’t have long *coughs* myself.”
​
Throbbing in the temple. “I need all my faculties intact. I need to save them.”
“I advise….”
The tablet…pitch-black. Eighteen’s voice faded. Yellow box blinking like a lone star.
‘HOW WILL YOU COMPENSATE FOR MY HELP?’
​
Swiped the device, stabbed its screen.
‘my peoplea re under threat and you ask forcompensation’
‘PAYMENT FOR SERVICE RENDERED. TIT FOR TAT.’
Inhaled. Exhaled.
‘mylife’
The box blinked. Half-minute stretched like an eternity. Flashes on the feed; AR-15 suppressing advancing Sangvis, repositioned as the shells fall.
‘TRY AGAIN.’
The tablet creaked. ‘I have nothing els eto offer what doyou want’
Another eternity. Stabbed the finger at the screen again.
‘mysoul’
The box blinked.
‘YOU VALUE YOURSELF SO LITTLE.’
“Kommandir! What did you do?”
​
False eye shot up. Outermost red line vanished. Enemy activity stopped—no shots, no bombardment. Team AR cut through the settling dust, advanced towards the Sangvis formation.
“Team AR to Command! We have a clear shot on the Ringleader!”
​
‘YOU OWE ME A FAVOUR.’
​
Red clusters ebbed and flowed erratically. One of the dots withdrew hastily into the sanguine sea.
“She’s retreating!”
Sangvis’ flanks battered once again. Red clusters fidgeted in confusion, then coalesced into a sanguine tide, converging towards a singular point. Platinum pigtails melted into the automaton array.
“We’ve lost our chance!”
Three minutes. Just three minutes until relief’s arrival.
“Command to Team AR, do not pursue the Ringleader. Prioritise on containing the Sangvis.” Inhaled. Exhaled. Throat felt tight. “Relief is arriving in three minutes.”
“Team AR to Command…” Moment of hesitant silence, “...Copy.”
Heart slammed against aching ribcage. Loud yet hollow bang rang from behind. Eighteen had already drawn her handguns and trained them at the sealed door.
“Medic! Open the door! It’s Skorpion! We’re back! We found the Boss!”
Eighteen glared impassively, not lowering her guns.
“Team AR to Command!” the headset sounded. “The Sangvis is advancing. We are withdrawing to base! 16! Flash!”
“Eighteen.” Kryuger. He sounded exhausted.
“Let them in.” Eighteen immediately stowed her weapons and hurried to dislodge the barricades.
Four blue blips drawing closer to the base, pursuing red dots evaporated in their wake.
“Command to Team KS.”
“Oi, Kommandir.” She sounded exhausted. Pained. “We are out of ammo and almost out of blank-bodies, y’know.”
​
“Head to Gate Two and unseal it on my mark.” Inhaled. Exhaled. “Team AR is on their way.”
“Why didn’t you say so? Hey, PK, you heard that, right? You can still run, right? Stop giving me that look, and get there now! Bystryy!”
Ringing clang. “Cetin! We are back!”
Three blue clusters emerged from the western edge of the map, rapidly approaching. "Grifon One to OMS, ETA one minute."
Team AR had crossed the clearing.
Helicopter aflame. Plucked blades, writhing figure inside the cockpit. Rasputin.
​
Inhaled. Counted to three. Exhaled. True hand balled into a fist.
“Command to Grifon One, Two and Three, Sangvis pursuing Team AR, crossing the south clearing. Intercept!”
“Grifon One, copy. Relaying instruction to Grifon Two and Three.”
“How is his condition?”
Kryuger.
“He is stressed out, and he refuses sedatives!”
“Hey, Cetin!”
The three blue clusters cut between the Sangvis and Team AR. Tracer flashed on the feed, followed by grenade hits.
“Team AR to Command! Reinforcements have arrived! We are joining the counterattack!”
“Cetin!”
Chair spun around. Skorpion, dust-covered. Kryuger watched us silently. Haggard, coated in white and grey. Shirt disheveled, fingers blackened.
Inhaled. Exhaled. “You were outside?”
“There are secret passageways out of the base.” He turned his iron gaze towards the Tactical Map. “I see you have the situation under control.”
“Boss fixed the antennas!” Skorpion exclaimed.
Despite the Sangvis surrounding the base?
“Team AR to Command!”
Spun towards the Map. Sanguine tide receding.
“Sangvis retreating. Should we pursue them?”
Inhaled. Counted to three. Exhaled. “...Return to base. Recuperate. Command to Team PK, unseal the door and stand down. The danger has passed.”
Inhaled. Counted to three. Exhaled. Skorpion looked on in anticipation. Raised the true fist, bumped it against hers.
“H-hey!”
Fine dust sanded the palm. “Hey! Stop!” Skorpion yelped. “It’s getting in my hair!” Yet the palm would not stop its motion. Even so, the heart would not calm.
Rasputin…writhing within the burning cockpit, his screams suppressed behind the cracking glass.
​
Tablet screen displayed rows of text again. Picked it up, brought up a menu. List of bases closest to the Odesa Meteorological Station and their frequencies.
“Are you not taking a break?” Skorpion inquired. “You said the danger has passed.”
“We must prepare to pursue and eliminate the Sangvis.”
Switched the Tactical Map to regional surveillance mode. Charted Sangvis movement trajectory.
​
“Kommandir.” Chair spun around again. False eyes met Kryuger’s gaze. “This is enough. Rest up. Leave the rest to us.”
​
“No...Not yet.”
Sangvis clusters moved southwestwards, towards the dune sea.
“The Ringleader is still at large.”
Dust flecks rose from Demir, Kadir, Timur and Zoltan’s bloodied sheets, rose into the broken light…
“The threat still persists. The Khorasani has hurt us. They mustn’t hurt us aga...”
Forehead thudded against the cold surface. The true arm refused commands, the eyelid felt heavy. Neck…stung….
“Eighteen! Boss!” Skorpion’s voice muted. “What are you...What have you done?!”
Ear…pressure lifted... “Central to Team AR...M4A1, report...”
Dark. Silent.