Shama and his troopers opened up on the charging group of the Ursana tribe`s vanguard. Most of his soldiers were firing their C-7 rifles. A short, handy weapon, blasting seven-millimeter caseless ammunition at a blistering 1000rpm. But his troops were far better than wasting ammunition by dumping magazines with reckless abandon, even if the weapons recoil mitigation system could easily keep them on target at this range.

　　The carbine-armed troopers quickly changed from one snarling Varintol to another, popping three to four rounds center mass. Just enough to get them to stumble and fall in the deep snow, waiting to be trampled by their so-called comrades.

　　The sight was maddening and made Shama somewhat sick. While Shama and all his troopers were trained to step over the first man during a breach. The Usrana were bleeding, crushing, and charging right over who were presumably their sisters in arms without even sparing their crying and begging allies a glance.

　　They were not even slowing their charge in the slightest, no matter how many Varintol ended up screaming and choking on their own blood in the deep snow.

　　The Ursana back lines, still concealed within the verdant pines, did not seem to care about the massive casualties their vanguard was taking. Instead of demanding a retreat, they began blowing horns and pounding on war drums. It might be intimidating without the gunfire echoing off the ridges and ice. But with the roaring and haze of modern warfare, their coordinating signals and attempts to bolster their troops might as well have been whispers.

　　Shama`s bolt locked back on an empty magazine; in quick, practiced motions, he dropped the empty magazine and let it fall to the ground—it was useless at that point; they had no extra ammo to reload them with anyway. He slammed a fresh forty rounder home and released the bolt, chambering a new round with a metallic clang he adored.

　　"Vin, what`s it looking like over the first ranks? It`s a little hard to get a good view from here," Shama questioned over the radio.

　　"Not too bad at the moment, Cap. By the looks of it, their lieutenants are having trouble keeping some spearman formations in order. These losers can`t even get them to breach the treeline and move on the flanks. I think we might have rattled the lower-ranked officers, at least," Vintor replied, the thunderous claps of his rifle keeping a steady rhythm while he spoke.

　　"Good. Start picking those leaders off. Keep them in disarray," Shama ordered, returning to the encroaching wave of meat, now only seventy-five meters from the line.

　　Just as Shama`s rifle landed on the snowy barricade in front of him. Meralu, next to him, let out a cruel, long burst with the Z1-P belt-fed machinegun, affectionately called the zip. The weapon was chambered in the same ammo as the C-7 but shot a freakishly high two thousand RPM.

　　Most troopers found the weapon heavy, unwieldy, and impossible to control in bursts larger than four to five rounds. Meralu was not one of those troopers. He was a hulking monstrosity of a Farun`se who made Shama look scrawny.

　　"Fuck yeah, get some bitches!" The feline-like alien screamed while leaning heavily into the weapon and dumping twenty-round burst after twenty-round burst, keeping his pace by holding the trigger down for a solid two seconds at a time.

　　Each defiant salvo from him and the other soldiers wielding zips cut swaths of the charging horde down like a scythe through grass. Their victims exploded with blood, bone guts, and severed limbs. Their walls of lead and tracers ripped through the front two rows of the attackers. Their shields, armor, and mass meant nothing to that amount of lead.

　　Shama heard one of the troopers dump a grenade launcher round out of an under barrel. The hefty and hollow bloop of the weapon stood out amid the sharp cracks and snaps of the rifles.

　　Watching the forty-millimeter egg arch through the air, it slammed into the plate armor of one of the lieutenants in the back ranks, exploding on impact. Whatever she was before this battle was no more. Her entire torso from the waist up was disintegrated by the HE round. Too bad none of the Ursana were behind her to be showered in bone and metal frag—that was a damn good shot, after all.

　　So far, the trooper`s fire had been doing a decent job of keeping the enemy at bay, but the Ursana kept coming like a wave of never-ending monstrosities. They had closed the gap to a measly twenty-five meters. They were close enough that Shama could already see the whites of their eyes, see slings of bloody spit between their fangs.

　　"Fuck why won`t they just go down!?" Shama questioned.

　　The Ursana were undoubtedly tougher than any other tribal they had ever faced. Most sentients went down after one or two seven millimeters to their A-zone. But these women needed at least four before they dropped. It was like they were all cranked out on painkillers and combat stimulants.

　　He had not seen this resilience since fighting against the Free Space Syndicates troops a decade earlier while rolling with L.O.S.T. Those brutes the FSS used for shock troopers were just like this. Still, unlike them, the Ursana had no modern body armor or rifles to shoot back with.

　　Too bad there was no solace in that fact. Nor would it help that the Ursana were about to slam into their line. The Ursana were simply way too fast in the snow. That twenty-five meters of standoff was only good for a few seconds.

　　Shama aimed at another Varintol with a wicked curved blade raised high, ready to bury that edge into him. With timed practice and precision, he quickly ran a Mozambique drill on her, the back of her t-box exploding and coating another with brain and bile.

　　The freshly painted Varintol grabbed her dead comrade by the back of her armor and hefted the corpse up as a shield. Shama drilled the rest of his magazine through the woman`s thin leather armor and body, his muzzle stuffing into the wound as the living shield bearer slammed into him.

　　Her fur and flesh sizzled from contact with the hot metal. Adding a horrible acrid scent to the vile potpourri of blood, guts, gunpowder, and gun oil.

　　Apparently, that fire was not enough to stop the shield bearer. Shama`s weapon ran dry, and he was run over by the screaming warrior. She ditched her shield, tossing her dead friend atop him. She slammed her foot on her friend`s back, pushing him deeper into the cold snow. She screamed in fury and reared back, ready to split his head open like an egg. Just as her ax reached its zenith, the woman`s head snapped to the side, and she went limp like a puppet with its strings cut.

　　"Sir, get your ass up," Command Sergeant Kellul shouted, kicking the body off his commander.

　　Kellul, his second in command and platoon sergeant, was a well-seasoned Jurintik not unlike himself. He was a rough-and-tumble fighter who was all the more willing than most to get stuck into a fight. But had a calm, commanding presence that everyone in the platoon respected. Shama could not have asked for a better platoon sergeant in this situation.

　　Shama levered back to his feet and brought his rifle to bear, changing the magazine. Kellul stuffed his muzzle into the mouth of another Varitol and blew the back of her head out.

　　"Thanks, brother," Shama shouted over the roaring gunfire and cracks of supersonic rounds.

　　"Don`t thank me yet. Get back to the second barricades. I will cover you. Teams one and two are already moving." Kellul replied.

　　Not questioning the words of the far more experienced sergeant, Shama whipped around and rushed through the snow, his heart pounding like a hammer against his ribs. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

　　"Set!" Shama shouted just as he crouched behind the drums of their barricades midway between the walls and the outpost`s main building.

　　"Moving," Kellul retorted, just after dropping another charging Uransa trooper.

　　Shama quickly traced his fire from right to left, allowing Kellul to take a position on his right side without stepping in front of his muzzle. Once Kellul started to return fire, Shama quickly radioed to Vintor.

　　"Vin, what`s the word on their forces?" Shama questioned

　　"They are holding where they are, sir. We only have about a dozen of the vanguard left. I don`t think they enjoyed me decapitating a dozen lieutenants." The sniper snickered cruelly.

　　At least, that was some good news. If the Ursana were holding position, once they finished up with the vanguard, his troopers could push back forward and adjust their fighting plans for this type of fighting, namely using more explosives and any other tools they had available. Because they could not survive more open combat like this without a better plan. Fatal funnels, phase lines, the fucking high ground. This outpost was not meant to be a combat outpost, and the arduous task of defending it made that evident.

　　Taking stock of the battle unfolding, he saw that one of his troopers off to the right was jamming a knife into a Varintol who reached the second barricade, stitching the cold steel in and out of the sobbing woman`s throat faster than a sewing machine. While she desperately tried to push the looming brut off by his face, her claws could not dig in through his scaley hide.

　　It was a shame she ran into Bracul. He was likely the only member of the platoon who could handle any sentient in a one-on-one melee, having trained with knives and swords for traditional reasons in the past. Now, he just carried that 30-centimeter blade so he could run someone like her through.

　　The other side of the battle had all but died down. One of his troopers was applying pressure to a wound on his shoulder, having been sliced open by one of their blades. "Stulit, get over here!" Shama shouted, directing the medic in the proper direction.

　　Once the battle had ended, the GU soldiers did not move. They remained ready for another assault for a solid half-hour, waiting for another psychotic charge, but it never arrived. Much to their relief.

　　"Kellul, get me a report on our ammo and wounded once everyone gets back up to the primary defensive line," Shama ordered.

　　"You got it, sir," Kellul replied.

　　Once everyone had resumed their positions at the front defensive line, getting sit-reps from all team leaders took half an hour. In total, each trooper had used three of their twelve magazines, and they had three walking wounded. Shama would prefer not to have the injured keep fighting, but he could not afford to be down anyone.

　　"Team leaders rally near the main doors," Shama said over the radio.

　　Once the four team leaders and command sergeant were on him, he disseminated his intent for the moment. "We have another day of this, at least. I want us to break down to fifty percent on the line, with everyone else on rest. I will go inside and check on the HVI`s. Everyone else, try to steal some sleep while you can. Keep your radios on full blast and weapons on you. If they charge, you have at most a minute to be back on line. Everyone understand me?"

　　A subtle nod from each of the team leaders was all he got and needed. They quickly decided what teams would be up for now, broke down that they would run two-hour shifts, and returned to their teams.

　　As they moved, Shama pondered their current defensive perimeter and realized his main issue was that they lacked a hold-off method, directional mines, area deterrents, or anything they could use to keep the forces from overwhelming them. He needed to ask Scarletra for supplies to bolster the defenses.

　　—

　　Samuel had just finished the repairs on the satellite dish. It had taken him far longer than he believed it would, so he worked overnight and into midday to ensure it was done as quickly as possible. As soon as he turned on the Varintluk, the radio was in one hand, calling back to the outpost, and a cup of coffee was in the other.

　　"Scarletra, are you there?" Samuel questioned.

　　"Samuel, are you alright?" Scarletra frantically asked, practically screaming into the microphone. "The Ursana have not found you, right?"

　　Samuel stretched, letting some of the work tension from his shoulders, and looked out the front windshield, scanning the area around him. He kept his eyes open whenever he took a break but did not spot anything throughout the day or night.

　　"No, nothing has happened up here. I just wrapped up and was about to start my way back," Samuel assured, clearly able to tell Scarletra was not in her right mind.

　　"Please hurry home. The warband is here, and the soldiers have already been in a battle," Scarletra informed him.

　　"Fuck, alright. I will floor it home and update on anything that I see." Samuel replied.

　　"Please hurry. Moi will be here tomorrow, and we will all be leaving," Scarletra pleaded.

　　"I will; I`m starting to drive now," Samuel assured, pressing the pedal down and feeling the massive multiton survival vehicle lurch forward toward the lush pines at the top of the alpine layers. "Is there anything else I should know?"

　　"Hold on, the Captain wants to talk to you," Scarletra said, followed by a long silence over the handset.

　　"Samuel, this is Captain Shama of the GU army. I need some supplies. Do you have any issues with us using the explosives that Scarletra said you have? I have a demolitions trooper here who knows how to use them and the dangers. And may I arm one of my troops with your flamethrower?" The captain questioned in a smooth voice.

　　"What kind of a dumb question is that—Use it. It`s not like I`m going to from where I am," Samuel replied.

　　"Flawless. I just wanted to be sure because Scarletra would not let me near the shed without your permission," Shama said, ending his words with a frustrated growl.

　　That was curious. It sounded more animalistic than a human. Shama likely was another form of somewhat animal-like alien species. That sounded somewhat like a dog or a wolf`s growl. Perhaps he was of the same species as Liro? But questions like that were neither here nor there.

　　"Ah—sorry about that," Samuel said, not expecting his warning of not allowing any of the soldiers to touch them would be taken that literally.

　　"Don`t be. I actually have a big ask of you. About a kilometer from the outpost toward you, there is a ridgeline. I want my troopers to set up a phase line of explosives in the gully below it. They can provide cover for themselves, but I would like you to take your rifle and give them aid." Shama said.

　　"What— You know I`m not a soldier, right? I am an engineer." Samuel protested, shifting the Varintluk to avoid several trees.

　　"Yes, but from there, you can see the entire battlefield. Update us on everything we cannot see and, if necessary, take a few potshots at a few squirtiers. I would spare my sniper, but he is on another mission I just sent him and another one of my troopers on," Shama explained.

　　Samuel thought about it, running through the risks and the benefits of what doing that could accomplish. He was not keen on shooting more people, but his desire to protect Scarletra was far more. If it was to protect her, he would slaughter every one of them.

　　He might have failed Sarah and could not save her from cancer, but he could help keep Scarletra from her old family.

　　"Please, Samuel, I need your help defending your home. I am down to twenty-five able-bodied troops and a handful of walking wounded." Shama pleaded. "Your explosives will level the playing field for my men, and we need to set up these phase lines."

　　Samuel chuckled. Never in all his life would he have expected a military man to be begging him for help. Not that he needed to do that. Samuel would do it without a doubt in his mind.

　　"I will let you know once I`m there and report what I see. Send coordinates to my datapad," Samuel said.

　　"Thank you, I will, Shama out," Shama said before cutting communications.

　　Samuel hung the handpiece and gripped the steering wheel hard enough to turn his knuckles white. The sun glinted off Samuel`s wedding ring, the last anchor holding him to Sarah and his past.

　　Samuel sighed, seeing it and thinking about what he was about to do. Literally about to enter the trials of war to save another woman. He would not forget Sarah, but it was time to move on.

　　Without hesitation, he pulled Sarah`s locket from the Varintluk`s rearview mirror. Slipping the ring on the chain, he stuffed it into his pants pocket. Safe and ready to be put away whenever he was wherever he and Scarletra called home once this was all over.

　　Sarah would undoubtedly be glad to see that he had moved on from what happened. That is, if she could see him on the other side of the universe. Who knows, maybe Samuel`s faith had been wavering lately. Perhaps his god really wasn`t to be thanked for the second chance. Levaal, or The Great Mother, might be to blame. He thought that because of Scarletra`s gravitas regarding Varintol gods. The way she described them and told their stories was infectious. He wanted to believe them and wanted to hear more stories from her.

　　 Samuel took in a deep breath and lit a cigar before damn near flooring the pedal. There were still dozens of kilometers between him and the ridgeline Shama was talking about, and that was still a solid six hours away if he was pushing the Varintluk.

　　That was before he had to fulfill the scouting and overwatch mission for the GU troops. Like when he was fighting the Ursana scouts, it was odd. His heart was not pattering and frantic; it was steady, calm, and prepared for what he had to do to protect the woman he loved.