The Lion's Hunt: Part 2

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PART II

Commander Etom’Vyuum was aware of the revisions of Itar'Reesh's poem, and like anyone with a mind to protect their family's legacy, took some offence to it. Concerned by the prospect of the Commander's frustration's spilling over, members of the Kurin council were hesitant to allow Etom' to continue to take command of missions of such consequence, but in the end, chose not to force the updated armour on Etom’ or any of the infiltration teams. It had been surmised that sending these squads to the Surion homeworld was tantamount to suicide. Those with knowledge of the poem’s alteration outside of the council would all soon be dead. The rest of Etom's infiltration team, including long-serving second in command, Rekla’Kyuul, accepted the armour upgrade with the altered text and donned it, unaware of the reason for the text’s alterations or its significance.

There was no Kurin soldier that the Commander trusted more than Lieutenant Rekla'Kyuul. Both had dual tails telling of their experience. Only inches separated the difference in length between the Commander’s twin tails and Rekla's, even though the Lieutenant was a few years older than the Commander. Rekla' wasn’t heavily concerned by what they saw as trivial. Rekla’ was a believer focused on faith and sure of the Kurin cause, sure of the Kurin afterlife, and as certain of the edicts of the Kurin council as anyone could be. As far as the Lieutenant was concerned, the words of the council were the instructions of the Gods, and so Rekla’ would follow anything they ordained. Only the council could dissuade the Lieutenant from this war, and while conscription was compulsory for any Kurin within their first three years of maturity, the moment Rekla' had come of age, signing up was top of the agenda.

In the more than a quarter-century Etom' and Rekla had served together, they had grown as close as friends could. That closeness might have prompted an explanation of the Commander's position about the poem on the armour update, but Etom’ never shared the reason for the stance held. There was at least enough trust between them for Etom' to ask the Lieutenant to etch the original poem’s quote onto the ageing armour, though. It was a process more painful than had been anticipated as Etom' still wore the gear. The scar left was welcome. The pain was less so, but one had to honour family in their own way.

The only way the etched poem could remain on the Commander's armour without the suit healing the wound would be if Rekla’ cut deep. Rekla' might have cut too deep with the blade on purpose though, perhaps as punishment for defying the council. They had argued about a great many things during the time they had known each other. And maybe in some small way, Rekla's technique was a protest at having to carve the poem in a format that was unfamiliar. Altering such text was almost blasphemous, both as an affront to the Gods and an insult to the council. Each cut caused Etom' to squirm every time the blade marked the suit and pierced the skin. Blood had seeped from the wound coating the Lieutenant’s hands, but Etom’ insisted Rekla’ completed the poem. The injury was so deep as long as the armour was worn the wound would never fully heal. It would slide skin over skin whenever Etom's head moved up or down, sending a sharp pain coursing through the Commander. That pain kept Etom' focused on the cave floor now as the large platform the infiltration team occupied continued to slow towards their destination.

The winds subsided as the soldiers’ eyes adjusted to their new surroundings. The cavern resembled a galaxy of stars set in darkness as a fluid becoming luminous as it was exposed to the air seeped through the cave’s ceiling and walls, speckling rock in a sea of black. Though not the primary mission, once refined, a single bottle of this glowing liquid could power a small starship. If extracting any decent amount of it were possible, they would take that chance.

Where the liquid collected in more substantial deposits, it ran down surfaces pooling in corners of the cave floor. The illumination enabled the descending team to make out shapes of excavation tools, pipework and rail tracks, and several randomly positioned support struts that had been carved directly from the rock. Jagged edges protruded dangerously from each column, suggesting that whoever had ordered this cave be cleared was only ever interested in the liquid and had little regard for those directly involved in its acquisition. It would have taken hundreds of years with old Surion technology to burrow this close to the planet's outer core, and Etom’ felt a swell of pity for those that would have been tasked with the excavation. Countless lives would have been lost in the endeavour, but access to the deposits was all that seemed to matter.

Lieutenant Kyuul was the first to draw a weapon. The rest of the squad followed suit as though ordered, unhooking the mechanical hoops at their waists without uttering a word. The hoops unfurled, assembling into long-barrelled firearms as they were raised. The soldiers aimed the weapons down at the cavern floor, searching for movement as the platform’s brakes screeched echoes into the expanse bringing the platform to a halt.

The platform rested on massive landing springs as ancient, rusted metals groaned, and the elevator’s oversized locking clamps clanged into place. The mechanical whirs of the centuries-old machine faded, replaced by the soft patter of luminous rain on stone that fell from the cavern’s roof, providing what little light there was to the surroundings. The funnels on the sides of the soldier’s heads pushed out pulsing plumes of spray. Soldiers often quipped that the filters never really worked as smells that permeated the air worked its way through their armour’s filtration systems, but few were foolish enough to test that theory. Those that did so on alien worlds quickly regretted it and became the subject of much ribbing. If they were lucky, they would walk away with just a new nickname that would serve as a constant reminder of their ineptitudes. The filters continued to let out soft, rhythmic jet plums, whether it was necessary for them to do so or not.

The soldiers had spent more than ten hours on the elevator platform, placing explosives on the exposed walls of the elevator shaft. It was a monotonous task, but it kept them alert. Now that they had reached the cavern, they were eager to carry out the next phase of their mission but could ill afford to go bounding into the darkness undermanned and underprepared. Their journey down to the cave had started with eight Kurin soldiers, but they’d had to fight to secure the platform. And with so little cover, just a trolley in the platform’s centre, casualties were unavoidable.

The bodies of the three Kurin soldiers they’d lost while fighting for the platform lay scarred and burned as Surion forces had gathered. Their bodies might have stayed where they fell, but none of the survivors had a desire to spend the following hours on the platform staring at the corpses of their comrades. Instead, they placed the bodies next to each other and blanketed them under a filthy grey tarp that had covered the central trolley meant to carry rocks, stone and other materials to and from the surface. Etom' was grateful that Rekla’, better suited to the task, had survived this long to say the prayer of Peace and Serenity over their bodies so that their souls could properly rest. It wasn’t the send-off any Kurin fighter desired, but the Commander had long lost count of how many times the prayer had been said or heard. It brought Etom’ little comfort.

Glimpsing back over the fallen, Etom’ took their deaths personally, felt responsible for their lost lives, as any worthy commander should, but sorry to be unable to do more for them. After covering the corpses for so long, the tarp was heavily stained deep mauve with the blood of the deceased, and though the chances of the rest of the team surviving this mission were slim, if they did make it through this day the image of those corpses would be forever burned into Etom's mind. Completing the mission was the best way to honour their comrades.

Realising that the glimpse had become an extended stare, Commander Vyuum shook it off, looked away, and took the giant step off the platform to join the rest of the team. And for the first time in over ten New Suri hours, they were on solid, unmoving ground.

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