The Restless Vigil

The Private was on watch, and I listened to Sarge's labored breathing. A strange sickness had made camp outside the old soldier's seemingly impregnable defenses, threatening a long siege.

"Sarge seems to be resting better now," I commented, eyes only half open, attempting to find myself a comfortable spot on the floor in the chill, dim common room.

"Hopefully The Lizard is resting too. She doesn't need to worry about one of her soldiers, or be turmoiled while performing her duties with the other leaders on the morrow." The Bishop was uncharacteristically calm and forgiving after being woken from our deep sleep.

I remembered The Lizard's worried sobs earlier in the night as she attempted in vain to minister to her old friend. Normally decisive, worry clouding her mind, she had asked us if we should take Sarge, in the dead of night, to The Triage. "They helped before, when wounds were great," she had reminded us.

The Bishop had looked thoughtful, assessed the situation, and noted to our compatriot: "Sarge is not in as dire circumstances as she was then, and all might be best served if we hold action till morning. Let Genghis and I watch over her till sun-up, so that you might rest for your day." And The Lizard had relunctantly agreed.

I gazed over at The Bishop as he drifted off to sleep, covered by a mismatch of blankets and cloth on the floor. He could be difficult, and bitter at times, but his actions this night were evidence of why I kept company with him.

I turned one last time and offered a salute to my fellow soldier, her breathing still rough, before laying down to ride out the vigil to daybreak.

It has risen...

The rain was cold and lightly pelting my visor. I moved my gloved hand up the shaft of my weapon, and walked steadily through the mud and muck to stand before an enemy, seemingly countless. I turned to look at The Lizard. The Private was at our side, eager for her first major battle. The enthusiasm made me smile despite the odds, and with a nod, I drove us into the fray...

At first the signs had been subtle. A strange sighting here, a rogue tendril there. But then it became evident. The Thing had escaped.

The Bishop had kept cursing and lifting his eyes skyward for solace. He blamed himself that The Thing had broken through the ward he had constructed with wisdom and craft to keep the land safe. But, inexplicably, It had found a hidden path beneath the walls. It was only a crack, unseen, but enough to grant clear passage for destruction. It was out in the wild... and threatened to overtake us all.

I left The Bishop to his prayers and meditations. I know not of blame or forgiveness, only action and consequence. The Lizard's reports from her local reconnaissance were grim. The beast had moved further, and spread it's tentacles far wider than any mortal might comprehend. We had no time for delay.

I pulled the necessary implements from the stockpiles and said to Gunny, "Guard the perimeter, old girl."

She eyed me with a knowing glance, then retired to the outer gates. The Lizard and The Private took their weapons at my side and we strode, grim faced, into battle with the awful foe.

We waded in, breaking apart to better divide the beast. Hacking and slashing, minutes turned to hours, and we realized that we had to resort to the trenches and sapping if we would have any chance of success. We divided labors, The Lizard and I digging in at two separate points. I was in awe of The Private, who took on the beast with a ravenous ferocity unheard of for such a young warrior, tearing into the stragglers with hungry abandon.

At the end of the day, we had managed to corral The Thing back into its prison. The Bishop, with all of his characteristic obsession, devised and constructed a new fortification to keep It at bay.

We walked away from the battle, dirty, sick, and tired. We had accomplished our task, but a sense of forboding hung above us. Had we contained the chaos permenantly, or would we have to face the foe, perhaps in darker corners of the realm, soon one day? The silence was uneasy, and I needed to break the tension.

"We need pandas," I stated.

The Lizard brightened us with her smile, and quirkily remarked, "No, we need ninja pandas."

Gunny just rolled her eyes and guided us into the keep for supper.

HALO, MIA

Gunny was worried. The young Private had been missing for several hours. The search had turned up only an open hatch on the forward hangar deck. Something was fishy, and unlike normal, it wasn't The Private's breath.

The sergeant was a proud marine, so it was a tough duty to inform the Captain and the Admiral upon their return to the ship of the young soldier being MIA. The two officers, realizing the seriousness of the situation considering the youth of the private, moved into action.

The Captain, a man of action, immediately took the cargo shuttle out to search the area. He hoped he wouldn't find any debris or bodies in his search, but as his grid widened, he started to fear the worst. Grimly he stayed on task in the cold harsh vacuum.

Back at the ship, The Admiral contacted the commanders of the rest of the fleet, requesting assistance in the search. Navy and marine personnel sprung into action, searching for their missing comrade.

Knowing that she had done what she could to initiate the search for The Private, The Admiral decided to investigate any clues on the ship which might shed light on the details of the disappearance. Channeling the abilities of Old Earth's Gil Grissom, The Admiral pieced together what must have happened. Gazing out the open hangar door, The Admiral looked down at the planet far below, blanketed in night. She quickly ran a scan of the ground, and found the tell-tale marks of landing pad imprints in the soil made soft from rain showers the day earlier. The imprints were deep.

Had The Private, untrained and guided only by youthful enthusiasm, attempted an unauthorized HALO jump from such an extreme altitude? All the evidence pointed to this, and The Admiral's blood chilled as she feared The Private's inexperience could have led to problems on the landing... and thus a lost and injured marine down in hostile territory.

The search continued. One squad led by Corporal Dexter Attwell had spotted a small force moving planet side. They closed to investigate, hailing the unknowns. They received a friendly reply: it was a allied patrol. Dex inquired about their lost private, asking nonchalantly if they had any spare marines. The helmsman's eyes brightened as word returned that they indeed had a spare marine! The Private was with them -- she had hooked up after an extensive recon in the dumpster zone, and a brief surveillance of the Canine forces.

The allied patrol moved into formation with Dex, and they all returned to the main body of the fleet. The Admiral was relieved, thanking the allied patrol for helping one of her own. The Captain turned his heavy cargo vessel on a dime when he heard the news over the com and headed back to the fleet. He didn't know whether he was going to hug or throttle The Private, but at least he had that option.

The Gunny, however, knew exactly what she was going to do. After a stern reprimand, and thorough debriefing, she sent The Private scurrying to her bunk! Secretly, Gunny was smiling at The Private's adventures, and the pride that she had so many comrades who were not willing to leave a man behind!