"Any readings?" Someone asked.
"All hands lost," another answered grimly.
None could afford to mourn the carryall's loss in solidarity. All their energy was spent on the rampart's defenses. And yet, they all knew they couldn't rebuff the Imperium assaults forever. They were going to run out of energy capsules soon. It was only a matter of time before Frank's final stand became a forlorn hope. None of them had any hope of making it home alive: They were abandoned by their commanders.
A Star Dreadnought rose over the horizon. Frank felt the urgency to retreat and relayed this to the others to no avail.
Frank aggressively reversed his K?mpfer away from the makeshift metallic ramparts. His Shinra allies continued to ignore the immediate doom and remained at their posts. Moments later, Frank shielded his eyes as a blinding light shrouded his panoramic paneling—they were atomized, caught in the blast of a single precision strike from the Star Dreadnought.
There was no one left. He was stuck here for good and he was going to die alone and forgotten, hardly a stardust memory. The last Star Monitor left Zeta's nearest quadrant and it only puzzled Frank why. But he couldn't dwell on the matter for long; his radar whined rapidly red with enemy signatures as Tacoma wheeled in over the crater alongside smaller Mobile Trooper Destroyers.
Frank kept moving; laz bolts shadowed his K?mpfer at every step. He couldn't afford to stop, let alone take a parthian shot at his Tacoma pursuers; among them, the unmistakable Red Blitz that slipped through his strangehold immediately after he tackled the ace killer off Victoria and made the two of them soar off the battlefield.
The only thing that could make this situation worse was if the Walpurgis showed up, but he was a mere small fry and counted his meager blessings. But maybe it was too early to say, if there were other survivors they would surely all be hunted down. It was only a matter of time before Frank entered the dreaded commander's sights.
Frank reached a chest-level wall and wheeled over it to crouch behind. With his repeater rifle at the ready, he spun and fired off incessant shots. It wasn't long before the barrel ran red and his trigger finger became numb. He yanked the accelerator and pulled back.
One Tacoma had fallen, but it wasn't a fatal shot to Frank's dismay. Its backside burst open as an escape pod rocketed off into space but like any mobile trooper pilot he gave it mercy and didn't fire on it. He killed only one by sheer luck; he wasn't about to let his second be dishonorable. A glance at his blinking ammunition bar—he couldn't risk it, not under this heavy plasma suppression. The escaping coward wasn't worth the energy.
Frank's retreat didn't last long. Tacoma platoons closed in on him from everywhere, his radar went so haywire he was sure it was going to short-circuit from the sheer overload of data.
"Damn!" Frank muttered; his teeth clattered. If only Lawrence or even Victoria were here... he was just a rookie! He squeezed his joysticks. What would either of them have done? What would Benny or Kaz done? What he do? All he's ever done is get everyone else killed; get in their way. And for all he knew the rest of his MAV was dead, he escaped death when the Walpurgis leaped out of the crater and launched projectiles everywhere. He had to face the present to ensure his survival. If they died, it was his duty to live on for their sakes. He assured himself this was something one of his seniors would've lectured on about.
But Victoria and Lawrence and the rest were living legends. They wouldn't die so easily even if they were killed. "And I won't either," Frank mutteered. "They'll.. they'll come for me, I know they will. I can't let them down." The shakiness in his voice betrayed his paper tiger confidence.
He was backed against a rocky wall. Just overhead a camouflaged doorway opened; silhouettes of mobile troopers peeked out. With nowhere else to go, Frank turned to face the music. This wasn't any virtual mission; this was the real deal. Frank took a deep breath in an attempt to control his breathing. He held up the pavise shield bravely. One final burst of shots sputtered before the gun's click rang in his ears.
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He charged forward, the shield pelted yet soaked up plasma rounds.
He targeted the nearest Tacoma—his visual feeds garbled from the impact and he forced himsefl to lean back to avoid the pressure from the airbag which sprang out in response. Without a moment to waste, Frank resorted to the most basic caveman instincts and swung the repeater rifle overhead and clubbed the Tacoma with it. He did it again for good measure, and on the second attempt, it caved the Tacoma's head in—Frank zoomed past it as the Tacoma fell.
In the ballerina spin that followed, Frank ripped the chain belt of mines out of his Kampfer's mechanical backpack. It uncurled like a stream of death as Frank dashed between the Tacoma ranks. His dome cockpit shook uncontrollably from the shock absorbers, and even so, for Frank, the maneuver made him want to unload his last supper.
He fired off his K?mpfer's head vulcan cannons and ignited the daisy chain that engulfed the Tacoma ranks in a fiery flash. It didn't matter if he killed any and he couldn't care less; he just needed to escape.
Frank tossed what remained of the strip bombs and ignited his photon naginata. There was still no end to them—he merely took out a MAV platoon, or at least disabled a good number of them. He saw sparks as a dozen escape pods zipped through smoke clouds. And even so, no shortage of Tacoma cut through the smoke buildup unscathed.
But their assault was stonewalled as they were destroyed or disabled by rapid-fire blue laz shots. They backed off and retreated over the horizon in numbers as the cover fire took out one after another.
Frank gasped and looked to his savior—he squinted; and it took him a couple seconds to spot a lone Shinra lying prone on a cliff. Frank jumped to his position and shot out a cable from his right hand onto the savior's shoulder. Frank knelt but then went prone to reduce his visibility.
"Well, count my blessings," Frank said.
"It's always good to see a familiar face," the man said. "I'm Private First Class Jericho. You alright?"
"You betcha—I'm Lance Corporal Erwin. Just call me Frank."
"Will do, Frank, what's the plan?"
Frank looked above them—Zeta was accelerating ever more rapidly on the Farragaig colony laser. Behind it, Fasnakyle: it was no longer a mere blue pebble to the naked eye.
Frank cleared his throat.
He focused on a deep hole where Frank previously stood at the edge of.
"Think we can hide in there?" Frank asked.
"Worth a try... but can we hold out long enough for anyone to fetch us? They probably don't even know we're alive... that's even assuming they try and land on here again."
"They'll come again," Frank said, he grappled with the uncertainty in him. He looked hard and closely at the Farragaig laser. The Fasnakyle fleet didn't seem to move in just yet. In fact they were spread out, why? So far, the Zeta Imperium fleet hasn't formed a vanguard for Zeta... just what was that Jonathon guy up to? Frank asked himself.
"They'll come..." Frank repeated. He gripped the joysticks so hard his hands burned with pain. "I know they will... they wouldn't abandon their own. We need to just survive until then, if we hide in the crevices, maybe we'll meet other Shinra survivors..."
"I'm for it, we're too exposed on the surface," Jericho said. "Sir?"
Frank was too young to be called sir just yet. "Yes?"
"You can just call me Bailey by the way."
"Bailey," Frank repeated, he smiled. "Let's get a move on."
They jumped down to the rim of the deep hole. He grinned at Bailey and the two of them descended into the abyss slowly.
Help would come, Frank was sure of it. For the first time, Frank prayed to God Almighty and hoped sincerely . . . for once in His eternal life, He would listen. I can't afford to die here, Frank confided in himself as the darkness swallowed him. It's not my fate to die here . . . not now!
is actually completed and clocked in at just 50k on the original draft so that may go up or down depending on the editing process. The really tough part is the editing needed to fit it into this narrative and my voice.
is an actual ending to work towards this time. I want my dear readers to have faith this time, despite the lag between uploads. I've been working on the next chapter on and off (what was this chapter 7 originally, or Yellow Typhoon chapter 5 'Victoria's Brief'). But kept getting distracted by a string of games (namely, played TF2 obsessively, then played MGSV and presently played og FF7) whenever I wasn't reading my backlog of tradpub books (finished Stranger in a Strange Land uncut and nearing the end of Rendezvous with Rama, and then moving on to The Moon is a Harsh Mistress).
- Captain Roy Buttermilch
- Second Lieutenant Lawrence Mengde
- Sergeant Victoria Schwarzenberger
- Corporal Boris Wellington
- Lance Corporal Luke Atrides
- Warrant Officer Kaz Jasmin
- Sergeant Major Benny Morrison
- Lance Corporal Frank Erwin
- Corporal Friederika Trachenberg