Bloodlust (TTC)/Chapter One - Arrival

Kelborn walked slowly out of the trees and into the clearing, then stopped and listened. Only birds and insects, nothing unusual. Was that a spring on the far side of the clearing? Had someone cleared the brush here? Was I being watched? He took a step forward, then paused again. Nothing. In a few long strides he reached the pool by the spring, squatted down, and held his canteen underwater. As it began to fill, he looked around and noticed what seemed like a heavily beaten trail entering the clearing in front of him coming from the south. That was where the Srav left wing must be, wasn't it? Had he gotten behind them already?

Kelborn had spent the last few hours creeping up that steep, brushy ravine from the east, and he was tired. He drank cool water from his hand as the canteen filled, and it refreshed him. But as he was drinking, he suddenly heard noises of something coming through the trees off to the south. He froze as he heard voices, soft Srav voices, a conversation between Sravs. Must be soldiers. He slipped his canteen up out of the water, then dove over a fallen tree trunk at the edge of the clearing and pressed into the underbrush below it.

He dared not look, but their voices were loud now. Then they were moving in his direction, and he pressed against the felled tree trunk that concealed his torso. The two Sravs called out to someone, and he heard voices in response, then laughter. The other voices grew closer, and he realized that this spring must be the watering hole for the left wing of Admiral Dyermo Bliad's army. Would they notice his boot prints, or were there too many others? If they found him, hiding behind a log in his blue Mandoa armor, signifying that he was an officer in the Taung war machine, there was no doubt that they would shoot him, for their empires were at war. And if that happened, there would be no reconaissance report, his wife back on Dxun would find herself a widow, and their children would lose their father. But he had a few options, so he lay there frozen.

Within a short time, two of the Sravs who had been drinking at the spring came over and actually sat on the log above him, chattering only a few feet away yet oblivious to his presence. Eventually, they rose and left, but he heard others talking or moving around in the clearing for the rest of the afternoon and evening. Finally, long after the last human voice or other man-made noise had faded, he slowly stood in the dark night. Hearing nothing, he carefully crept across the clearing and made his way back down the ravine.

---

The officers and their troops had been instructed to assemble in full battle gear shortly before dusk in the camp, a narrow mountain canyon surrounded by craggy, snow-capped peaks. Straggling the Abeccian Sea as it did, the camp had for the last two months been the main headquarters for the resistance fighters. The Srav commanders in Demosia, the capital of Demos, had neither the resources or the stomach to venture into the mountains and had instead resigned itself to try to block the various passes the resistance fighters used to sneak into the lowlands and wreak their havoc.

The occupation of Demos had been going on now for three months, most of which had seen these men and their thousands of followers living like animals in the rugged mountain ranges that bisected the northern third of the world, just south of the capital, Demosia. Three months ago, Srav forces under Dyermo Bliad, seeking new worlds to colonize for the Srav Federation, had arrived in space above Demos. Using precision air strikes and mass attacks by thousands of infantry, the Sravs had toppled the local government and military administration of the Taung on Demos.

The ousted generals and their armies, having known of the incoming Srav long before they had arrived, thanks to long range sensors, had for weeks been covertly moving supplies and equipment from the cities into the mountains to the south. For three weeks, Demosia and the surrounding countryside was quiet, frre from the ambushes, artillery attacks, and skirmishes that had plagued Demos for the past month.

Led by Gendar Ordo, the radical Taung general known for his reputation of massacring entire populations to subdue rebellions by the Zhell, the Taung had abandoned the cities and towns moments before the laser guided bombs had begun to fall. Gendar Ordo quickly stepped into the spotlight, commanding and fighting alongside his Taung partisans, harrassing the Srav forces and chipping away at whatever small gains they were able to make outside the major cities. On the first day of spring, the Taung returned in force with a coordinated attack that drove the majority of the Srav forces back into the plains surrounding Demosia, where the army regrouped, dug in, and repelled the attack, forcing the Taung once again into the mountains. For the next month and a half the battle raged on, sometimes tipping in the balance of the Taung, other times in favor of the Sravs.

Tonight however, was not about strategy, the generals had been told about news - good news that would turn the tide against the Sravs. What would be revealed here would both shock and elate them. As the sun dropped behind the western peaks and the meadow was shrouded in darkness, the three thousand assembled Taung Crusaders gathered themselves before the platform, a natural tier in the canyon wall. Generator powered ondo lights glowed to life on either side of the platform, illuminating the six members of the former Taung military administration. Standing before them was Gendar Ordo, their hero and their commander.

"Welcome brothers, and thank you for coming. Many of you have traveled far to get here and undertaken great risks. Rest assured, your time and effort will be rewarded. As you know, we fight as much for our glory as we do for Dxun and Mandalore. Mandalore, who even though he has not yet come, drew us together, bonded and hardened us."

A cheer rose from the assembled crusaders. J22s and Deathriders were raised, and pistols were fired into the air. Gendar waited for the tumult to subside and then continued, "Since the Srav invasion, we have fought in his name and for our homeworld. I'm sure you will agree that the months have been grueling. Even the strongest amongst us has been beset by doubts and fatigue. Well, no more, brothers. Tonight, we are reborn."

As if on cue, from the far eastern reaches of the canyon came the thump of a dropship's engines. The Taung Crusaders began shouting and pushing, hoping to find either cover or firing positions for Spearhead missile launchers. "Calm yourselves, brothers, there is nothing to fear," Gendar called over the loudpseakers. "This is expected. Stand fast."

The crowd slowly calmed and went quiet as all eyes turned eastward. For a full minute the thumping of the dropship's engines increased until a pair of wingtip navigation lights emerged from the darkness of the neighboring canyon. The dropship - a brand new Dragon-class - roared over head, passing thirty feet above the crowd before turning right and stopping in a hover over the clearing besides the motor pool. Slowly, the dropship touched down. For nearly a full minute, nothing moved. The crowd stood in rapt silence, watching the dropship for signs of movement. Some of the men, their martial instincts so finely tuned, shifted nervously, weapons clutched tightly across chests.

Finally, the doors of the dropship opened, revealing a rectangle of darkness. From the speaker's platform, a scaffold-mounted spotlight glowed to life and bathed the side of the dropship in a circle of stark white light. Still nothing moved.

And then a lone figure emerged from the darkness of the dropship's loading bays. Clearly a Taung, the figure stood at exactly eight feet tall, with broad shoulders, and long, powerful legs. A helmet covered his head. Murmured voices rose from the crowd. The man raised his hand to shoulder height, palms out, and the crowd settled. The man reached up and slowly took of his helmet. The crowd gave a collective gasp. They had seen this face on holovids. "Greetings, brothers. I have arrived, and in that I offer you your glory back," said Mandalore. "I ask you: Who will fight at my side?"

Admiral Dyermo Bliad sat upright in the uncomfortable command chair of the Vesetroika Destroyer, Blood and Iron. He was ready for action, and so were his men. He had ordered them so. He knew better than to rally his crew members and infantrymen by making gruff and patriotic speeches in a misguided attempt to fire them up enough to put their lives on the line for Jasef Yuiln. The admiral himself wasn't entirely comfortable up in space while the fighting was going bad for his men on the surface of Demos, but he tried not to dwell on it too much. The admiral and his men were just returning to Demos after leaving to acquire more supplies and reinforcements on Sviat, and was just being updated on the situation.

"Hostile world Demos on-screen, Admiral," said Lieutenant Viktor Yakimenko from the tactical station. "Approaching orbital insertion."

Admiral Bliad nodded. "I am extending our sensor net, Admiral," said Lieutenant Yakimenko. "Scanning ahead for defensive positions."

Bliad gave the handsome young officer a smug look, raising both eyebrows. "I figure our fifteen Vesetroikas can pretty much take care of any little space forces these partisans can throw at us, Lieutenant."

"Sir! Enemy vessels!" the lieutenant shouted, double checking his tactical readouts as the Srav fleet homed in on Demos. On the screen he displayed a full analysis of what lurked high above the jungle world. The soldiers on board the Blood and Iron saw the display and muttered in surprise.

Bliad clenched his jaw and leaned forward. "I thought those little freakbags might be laying am ambush for us." He recognized the large, disfigured Taung Mandalore cruisers. "Power up the fleet's turbolasers and missile launchers," he said. "We'll go in and ring their bells before they have time to get supplies to their partisans on the ground." Admiral Bliad smiled and knotted his hands together as if a scrawny enemy throat was clenched between them. "All right, men," he broadcast through the long corridors of the Vesetroika, "Let's go blow these farmers out of the sky!"

The men cheered so loudly that the metal hulls rang with their enthusiasm. The First Expeditionary Fleet was born to fight, and Comrade Yuiln had wasted their potential on pointless busywork for far too long. The infantrymen were as bored as the admiral was. "Sir, it's unlikely that the Taung fleet doesn't know we are here," Lieutenant Yakimenko pointed out. "They are already launching fighters to engage us."

As they observed, the Taung cruisers launched waves of Alpha interceptors toward the forward units of the fleet. Then the Alphas smashed into the Srav ships. In seconds, the battlefield turned into a chaos of weaponry discharges and exploded hulls. The Taung carriers launced more waves of Alphas that sought out and attacked all of the Sravs in reach. At first the Alphas were like a swarm of stinging insects, concentrating on the massive Vesetroikas. Nearby, they made quick work of a squad of Yukels who were attempting to join the fray. The Alphas moved fast, striking, destroying, then searching for new targets.

Seeing the carnage, the loss of several Vesetroikas and the destruction of so many of their comrades, a group of Yukels broke through and attacked the Taung cruisers themselves. Reckless but determined another group of Yukels careened into a Taung cruiser, sacrificing themselves to take out an opposing Taung vessel. As the firefight continued in orbit, and the Sravs began to take losses, the Srav forces pulled back to regroup, while the Taung did the same.

---

Petya Malenkov was one of the tide of Srav infantrymen pouring uniformly from the barracks in Demosia and into a world of chaos. The squad marched out of the city gates, heading for the rendezvous point.

Demos had suffered under the relentless assault. The sky was darker now from the smoke of continous pyres, and the great bloated figure of the world's gas giant primary hung like a sorrowful god behind a shroud of mourning. In the distance there was the thunder of both heavy and light artillery, though who was firing, and who they were firing at, was unkown. They passed abandoned bunkers, cracked open like eggshells, surrounded by the partially buried detritus of war: broken weapons and shattered men. The thunder grew louder, and Petya realized they were heading into the heart of the battle.

"We've got Drakuvs and Molots," Captain Dmitri Podgorn said over the comm link system built into their helmets, "trying to punch a hole in the Taung lines. We get to the front line and reinforce our units in the trenchs. Regret signing up to fight for the Comrade Yuiln now, comrades?"

"Maybe a little," Petya said under his breath. Up ahead a pile of boulders vaporized in a massive explosion. Captain Dmitri brought the squad up short.

"That shouldn't happen," he said. "Our Drakuvs know we are coming this way. Did Admiral Bliad scew up the orders he sent to them on purpose, or..."

Petya heard the whistling of another set of incoming rounds. "It's their tanks!" he shouted. "They've broken through our lines!" Captain Dmitri got the squad moving very quickly. The road ahead vanished in a crescendo of flying earth and rock as another round tracked closer. The shattered earth and dozens of explosions were a little to much for Petya.

The Taung must have a spotter. The missile fire tracked them mercilessly, staying about a hundred yards behind them. Captain Dmitri took the remants of the squad into a ravine that had long since lost anything that looked like water. "Let's seem them follew in here," he said.

Petya heard the high pitched wine of metal slicing through air, "Alphas!" he yelled into the comm link. The interceptors came in low and hard, blasting both sides of the ravine with their burst lasers and missiles. The scrub was incinerated at a touch, and the interceptors pulled up, unable to see their prey through the smoke they had generated.

They were lucky, the interceptors had to pull back for refueling, and they were close to the frontlines. As if in response to their luck, the comm link beeped. Petya scanned the horizon for a minute. Nothing. Captain Dmitri popped open a small screen, and Petya could envision Admiral Bliad's frowning face there. "Good to know you're alive, captain," said the Srav admiral. "The Taung have broken through our lines and you will be surrounded within thirty minutes. I'm sending in a Klasnost to pick you up. We're abandoning Demos."

"Yes sir," replied Captain Dmitri. Captain Dmitri closed the screen and turned north. Petya picked up his gun and followed.