The sun had passed its zenith several hours before Samuel had set himself up atop the ridgeline Shama had asked him to set up on overwatch. The wind caressed his beard and heavy survival suit, trying to dig through them and rip the heat from his skin.

　　The last few hours were illuminating, bringing the Ursana`s efforts to capture Scarletra into a whole and equally horrific perspective. Up and down the mountainside across the valley were thousands, if not tens of thousands of troops: shadows of cataphracts, spearmen, bowmen, and even lumbering Hutots chosen, weaved in and out of vision as they set up camps.

　　Their encampments were along the entire mountainside, the orange glows of their fires shining like gemstones within the green, white, and gray ocean. Samuel and Shama knew they were going to have to move fast, but this was lighting a fire under their asses. If they did not set up a breakout soon, the Ursana would surround them and set in for a long, drawn-out siege.

　　Something they would easily be able to win due to the GU forces meager numbers, lack of supplies, and the nearest GU military vessel that could aid with orbital bombardment or on-the-ground troop support being several weeks away, orbiting Erula and unable to come to their support quickly enough.

　　Shama had made an executive decision that Samuel could not argue with. Samuel would provide the support as requested, offering Shama`s troopers aid with covering fire and active reconnaissance from his overwatch position.

　　But with Samuel`s additional battlefield intelligence, there was an addendum to the plan. Samuel would take the Varintluk and rush down into the outpost to give the team an extraction, doing his best to avoid outriders, scouts, and Great Mother forbid cataphracts while rushing through the verdant pines on the rough road he had established several days prior.

　　So long as all of that worked, Shama, the soldiers, Scarleta, and Shethun would load up in and on the Varintluk. They would then break out to the south, heading for the lake Samuel had used as a target range once or twice since arriving there. Moi would be ready to pick them up and get them off this frigid hellhole.

　　Overall, the idea was solid but would undoubtedly be opposed by the Ursana. Samuel had already spotted outriders and their supporting bowman infantry slinking through the trees on both sides of the outpost, using the frozen river and gullies as defilades to keep them from being observed by the soldiers inside the outpost.

　　But with the sun beginning to set over the mountains, the GU soldiers were preparing to make their move, and Samuel had to do his utmost best to fulfill his role, no matter how small that role might be.

　　Settling in behind the scope, Samuel activated the rangefinder built into it. The scope did not auto-adjust for distance or windage but had plenty of milliradian indicators that would give him a quick idea of his holds, even though he would be guessing for most of his shots.

　　Several figures began to move near the outpost, all clad in black with rifles and machine guns in hand. The show had begun. Captain Shama had explained to Samuel they would be pushing out several hundred meters and laying out rows of explosives to set up points so they could blast away swaths of the Ursana all at once—and hopefully drive the low-tech forces into disarray when the world erupted from beneath their feet.

　　Just as that plan entailed, like a group of silent specters, the soldiers quickly found their way into the low points of the gully. They slithered their way forward until they were nearly two hundred meters from the outpost and began to set up charges crossing the frozen river.

　　Constantly scanning the area around the soldiers and further away from the outpost, looking for any sign of the Ursana outriders or scouts watching or pushing in on the hard-at-work soldiers.

　　The first two rows of charges were no issue, with little more than a few smaller creatures skittering amidst the trees, drawing Samuel`s attention momentarily. After nearly half an hour, Samuel was starting to wonder if the Ursana had any idea the soldiers had left the relative safety of the outpost and were putting the Captain`s plan into motion.

　　That was until a flash of crimson caught his eye further up the frozen river bed. Samuels`s tight muscles screamed at him, squirming slightly in a seated shooting position, angry at moving after having not moved for hours.

　　It took a few minutes of searching, but eventually, Samuel scope found what he had spotted, and it was not good news. There was one of the cataphracts lumbering down the river with a group of ragged male Varintol bowmen languidly marching in front of her. Unlike what you would see back on ancient Earth, the woman in red was not atop a horse; no, her mount looked like someone had crossbred a bull with a wolf.

　　The creature was a strange combination of the skeletal structure of a lupine, with the heavy set build and long hairy fur of a wooly mammoth. Four massive horns jutted up and out its head. Addorining those gigantic horns were small jingling silver and gold trinkets glistening in the firelight from a lantern attached to her hip.

　　Samuel noted them, called down to the soldiers below with his datapad, and informed them of the encroaching threat. They quickly sought out defensive positions and waited, giving Samuel the ultimate decision as to whether or not the engagement would happen.

　　By watching the woman`s actions, it was easy to determine that this fight would happen. She would look ahead at the outpost and encourage the ragged men along with a few barked orders that were audible even from nearly a kilometer away.

　　Even with the language barrier, the bowmen clearly were not too happy to follow their so-called leader`s direction. She would scream, poke, and prod at any stragglers with a massive halberd, ensuring they stayed in line and kept closing in on the outpost.

　　By the time Big Red was two hundred meters from the troopers, she was just within seven hundred of Samuel. Just close enough, he could confidently hit her on a first, if not second, shot.

　　At his range, he knew the 12.7-millimeter caseless round would drop approximately 2 meters and carry a whopping four thousand joules of energy on target. That was nothing to scoff at, just about the same amount of energy as a 25-kilogram weight hitting you at 105 kilometers per hour. Only hitting you in an area the size of your thumb. But those were just rough estimates off the top of his head.

　　Aiming about as tall as she was high over center mass, one of the milliradian marks was firm dead center on her gambeson coat; now all Samuel had to do was wait for the bitch to stop moving to get the party started. He hoped that by dropping her first, the bowmen would scatter to the winds, thinking the will of Hurot had just struck down their vile commander. But who knows. If they did not, the soldiers below would mop them up quickly.

　　Taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out, the crosshair settled in her chest, and the world faded out as Samuel fell into the zone entirely. There was no cold, wind, or snow; nothing else existed for those few moments other than himself, Big Red, and the slowly increasing pressure on the trigger.

　　With a crack of thunder, the rifle gently pushed back into his shoulder. Half a second later, the round exploded the haft of the woman`s halberd in half, severing it just above where her armored hand gripped it, sending flying shrapnel all over her.

　　Due to the vast distance between them, the sound of the rifle did not reach the woman for another two seconds. It was just long enough for her to look at the upper half of her weapon sticking out of the snow and at the remnants in her grip in confusion.

　　She looked roughly off into the distance towards where Samuel was. He could have sworn that through some preternatural means, she could see him. Her bright blue eyes looked at him with hatred and disgust, but it was too late. Samuel had already corrected his aim, holding it off her back half her width and letting his second shot loose.

　　The woman lurched and shuddered once the round ripped through her chest. She looked down at her armor, trying to comprehend what had just happened, but she never had an opportunity to reach an answer.

　　The GU soldiers down below opened up on the formation before the bowman had registered that their commander had been cut down by sniper fire. The zipping staccato of their machine guns echoed off the rocks, pines, and ice, making the already blistering fire rate seem even more so.

　　Through his scope, Samuel watched the bowman get torn to shreds by the machine gun fire. Tracers whizzed past the panicking soldiers, tiny red streaks of hate tracking from one soldier to another, putting them in the ground in job lots.

　　Most sentients, once they had witnessed the effects of rifle and machine gun fire, knew to seek cover as quickly as possible. It was too bad most of the Ursana who had seen the weapons business end were already dead, so only one or two did. But it meant nothing with what came next.

　　The grenade explosions tossed up dust and snow, leaving nothing but black craters filled with mangled corpses in their wake. Several seconds after seeing the explosions, the dull whumps reached Samuel`s position.

　　 Being this far away from the battle felt surreal; it felt so impersonal, like he might as well be playing a video game or watching a movie. He knew those were sentients dying down there, but he felt nothing for them. They were just specks in the distance; it wasn`t like he could hear them screaming or feel their warmth while they died. Samuel sighed and pushed those thoughts away; now was not the time to linger on thoughts like that.

　　After the short thirty-second engagement, the roar of weapons died down, and deafening silence coated the valley. Everyone within several kilometers knew a plan was in action now. Undoubtedly, Mother would not take the loss of another platoon lying down.

　　Samuel scanned the gully where the Ursana forces were; the area was bathed in blood, with a few of the bowmen writhing in pain on the ground. Even the massive mount that Big Red rode lay in the snow, blood pouring out of innumerable gunshot wounds.

　　A quick bit of motion caught his eye. One of the males had survived unscathed and was trying to crawl away. He dragged his face through the ice, trying to keep himself as low as possible, more afraid of the troops down there, likely unable to comprehend that a man nearly an hour`s walk from him had him in sight.

　　Samuel sighed on seeing him. Why did he have to live? The last time Samuel let one of the Ursana go, things only got worse; they might not even be in this situation if Samuel had hunted that scout down and ended her. He would not make that mistake twice; aiming in, letting out a breath, he quickly and coldly tied that loose end.

　　—

　　Over the next two hours, the soldiers worked silently below, setting up dynamite, PETN, det cord, and wireless detonators. No more of the Ursana dared to make any more attempts at the troopers, likely having made that decision based on another platoon of their soldiers having vanished following a horrendous thunderous roar of defiance by the GU troopers.

　　"Samuel, we are all done here. You are good to wrap it up; thanks for the support," one of the troopers said over a datapad call.

　　"Got it. I will be down there in a few hours to pick you all up. Do me a favor and tell Scarletra I will radio her later, OK?" Samuel requested.

　　"We got you, see you soon," The trooper replied before cutting off the call.

　　The sun had already gone down a half hour ago, letting the hundreds of fires the Ursana had set up give the valley a looming orange glow like there was an eternal twilight amidst the trees.

　　While moving toward the Varintluk, Samuel`s mind wandered to what Scarletra would be doing now. The captain was not letting her get stuck in fighting, which was good. Scarletra is a kind, loving person and should not be out here in the middle of this war. Samuel and the troopers would keep her safe because it had affected her life enough—she deserved that peace. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

　　Scarletra was likely trying to bury herself in books, reading, or something, trying to keep her mind occupied. He chuckled, imagining her picking the brains of some of the soldiers, trying to learn more about them, their species, and the GU. Great Mother knows she has tried to learn about the GU from Samuel, but he had such little experience in the wonder galaxy he could hardly give her accurate information.

　　Just as Samuels swung the door open, an arrow slammed into the metal door with a dull thunk. Samuel scrambled away from the door and tucked behind the front of the Varintluk, attempting to seek cover. As he reached the front and was about to turn around, a large shadow beneath the trees nearby moved.

　　Snapping the WSR-1 to his shoulder and flicking on the weapon light, a Varintol bowman stared back at him, his weapon low, but an arrow knocked. His eyes were wide in shock, likely wondering why he was now looking into something as bright as the sun.

　　This was the first time Samuel had seen a male Varintol up close. He had a similar build to the females he had seen but looked horrible. Scraggly and patchy fur and a gaunt, looking face. Unlike the other scouts, he wore no armor; instead, loose rags draped over his body, and held a rough leather quiver to his hip.

　　Samuel was aware the Varintol, and the Ursana especially, were fond of using slaves in their society; it would not be shocking that they did in warfare. But Samuel had no opportunity to question the moral implications of the scenario. This man and whoever was out here with him were trying to kill him and keep him from Scarletra.

　　Samuel ran the trigger quickly, ridding the tight reset while slamming a bill drill straight into the scout. He was not aiming at this range; he was just putting the target in the center of the bright white beam of the flashlight and shooting.

　　Six round ripped flesh from bone, spraying mists of crimson across the cold snow. Before the Varintol had realized what had happened, he slumped to the ground, missing an arm and half of his upper torso. If he was a slave, at least that was a quick death.

　　A massive roar broke the silence of the night, rattling Samuel`s bones. The other scouts clearly took the gunfire as a sign that their ambush had failed and were starting to move. The sounds of roars, breaking branches, and crunching snow grew to a nightmarish volume.

　　Samuel quickly put a fresh magazine into his rifle and rushed down the hillside, wanting to put as much distance as possible between himself and the Varintol.

　　There was no way he would be capable of winning this fight if he stayed in that clearing. If he wanted to live through the night, he would have to follow the mantra, "You can fight a hundred men and win; you just have to fight them one at a time."

　　Samuel twisted his scope to one power, letting him use it like a pseudo collimator. Samuel whipped around; his white light illuminated the route he had just rushed down, showing off two more of the pathetic-looking Varintol males. His optic settled on the first one`s head, and a single round sent him careening into a tree trunk, momentum carrying him into it with a dull crunch.

　　The other was far more hearty and needed a Mozambique drill to stop. His first two rounds landed low and ripped out the snarling man`s lower back, while his third hit him just below the eye. It was not a perfect drill, but it did the job, letting his axes fall from limp hands and collapse after a single step.

　　Bounding through the snow toward another piece of cover a few dozen meters away, roaring shadows moved alongside him, barely visible in the wan light. He needed to move faster and pressed himself to do so; Samuel`s lungs heaved and struggled to draw in the frigid air. Each breath felt like daggers cutting his throat. His heart rate spiked and slammed like a drum in his ears.

　　 How the fuck does Scarletra run around in temperatures like this like it is nothing? It is insane. If he kept sprinting like this, he would be on the deck having a heart attack. Don`t the Ursana know old people aren`t supposed to do intense cardio like this without a warmup?

　　Before Samuel reached the next boulder, he was ripped off his feet by a heavy blow to his ribs, sending him flying against a nearby tree, the wind leaving his lungs, leaving him gasping like a fish out of water.

　　A deafening roar sounded out, pulling goosebumps out of his skin. Looking up, his eyes struggled to focus on a female Varintol wearing hardened leather carrying a buckler and sword rushing toward him.

　　Samuel scrambled to fish his rifle out from beneath himself. He barely managed to get the weapon to his shoulder before the Varintol was on him. The two quick rounds ripped the woman`s jaw off and severed her spine, causing her to collapse atop him.

　　 He almost looked like a badass, saving himself from injury in just the nick of time. But physics still was an uncaring bitch, no matter where in the universe you were.

　　The Varintol woman`s sword plunged through his calf, the weight of her body forcing it through his muscle, sinew, and survival suit like they did not even exist. Instead of a blood-curdling scream, he let out a rough grunt, not even registering the injury to his leg. He was more concerned about the armored dead woman`s warm, vile blood pouring out of her mangled face and onto his own. Samuel moved his face away from the spurting stream and gagged.

　　After shoving the woman off, Samuel`s troubles were still not over. Another scrawny male Varintol slammed into him, both rolling down the hill, tossing up snow in their wake. They tumbled for what felt like an eternity, crushing small bushes and rolling over jagged rocks.

　　Their hellish tumble stopped when they fell off a small cliff, falling two meters down into the snow with a soft thud. Taking the moment of shock they both felt to his advantage, Samuel grabbed the Varintol`s wrists and took control of them for the moment.

　　That was far too easy; this Varintol was weak and not healthy. Samuel muscled himself atop the Vaintol, straddling his hips, pinning the mangey attacker in the snow. The male lashed out with teeth, his jaws snapping between hateful, spiteful curses. While Samuel could not understand Varintol, he could feel the venom rolling off the man`s breath and the manic look in his dull grey eyes.

　　With his weapon being no better than a bludgeon at this distance, that`s precisely what Samuel opted to do. In one hand, he raised his rifle over her head; with a scream of defiance, he brought it down onto the man`s face. A heart-churning crack sounded out, then another, and another. Each time the buttstock collided with the man, it shattered more of the attacker`s skull.

　　Samuel was seeing red. He did not want to fight any of them. Kill any of them. But Scarletra`s stupid mother was causing all this violence, death, and murder. His mind was in such a rage he did not even notice that, unlike Scarletra or the scout he had just shot, this male did not have claws. None of the males he had fought up here did. But it did not matter; Samuel kept smashing the man`s face.

　　After Samuel took control of the rifle with both hands and drove it into the man like a sledgehammer, the Varintol`s screams morphed into begging, then sobbing, then little more than gurgles as he choked and spit teeth, blood, and cerebrospinal fluid across samuels chest and face.

　　After half a minute of screaming in fury, Samuel stopped crushing the caved-in skull of a long-since-dead man. His chest heaved in agony, looking at what might as well be ground meat, but Samuel still could see the pleading look on the Varintol`s face just before the first strike.

　　Slinking off the man`s corpse, Samuel flicked off the weapon light, sitting against a tree in the cold darkness. He had no idea how many more Varintol were in the area but doubted there could be many more scouts.

　　After a few minutes, the thumping of his heartbeat had calmed. Samuel listened to the sounds of the mountain around him, praying to the Great Mother that no more scouts were about to charge him. Thankfully, the entire area was calm, except for a voice piercing the darkness. A feminine voice rolled down the ridge he had come from. They chuckled and joked in Varintol. But it was not getting closer nor further away—they must be near the Varintluk. But why was there only one voice?

　　Samuel struggled to stand; once on his feet, he realized his calf had been ripped open, warm blood pooling in his boot. He flicked on his headlamp and looked at the wound, nearly vomiting when he saw the massive laceration in his muscles; an oozing stream of blood poured out the gaping cut, sopping his pant leg and pooling around the boot heel.

　　"Fuck that`s not good," Samuel groaned.

　　He regretted his decision to leave his backpack in the Varintluk. Without it, he had no medical gear on him. This was a venous bleed, and he did not have long to staunch the bleeding before he would pass out. While he was not a medical professional, he knew enough about first aid to realize he had a few hours at most.

　　Wincing, Samuel bit his lip to keep himself from yelling in pain with each tortuous step up the slopes. He had to make it back to the Varintluk. The auto surgeon and his first aid kit were in there. Without those, he would not survive the sword wound, much less the night or the extraction.

　　Trudging up the slope, he could barely see anything in front of himself, the light of the green planet giving him just enough contrast to see the trees and the ridge he had run down. Focusing on the sounds between the trees, Samuel ensured no Varintol would get the jump on him again. Luckily, by the time he reached the ridge, that woman`s voice was the only sound other than snow beneath his plodding steps.

　　It was odd. She did not sound frustrated or angry or like she was ordering others. She sounded curious. She was speaking to herself about something similar to what Scarletra did before she had the translator.

　　Peeking up and over, through his blurry vision, one of the Varintol cataphracts was digging through his backpack and inspecting each item. Her beast of burden sat beside her and the Vanrintluk`s open door. The cabin lights illuminated the area, bathing her shimmering lamellar armor in an orange glow.

　　This must be the leader of these scouts. Why she decided to start looting before seeing his body was beyond him, but it was her funeral. Samuel had to make it to the Varintluk, and her curiosity or presence would not stop him.

　　Samuel dropped his half-spent magazine and sent a new one home, wanting a fresh ten-rounder ready for this fight. The magazine catch clicked loudly enough that whatever animal she used as a mount stood up and began to growl in his direction.

　　Great Mother Why? Why could you not make this easy? Samuel bemoaned in his mind. The jig was up; he had hoped to have killed one of them before they noticed him, but that was out the window. The moment the creature growled, the woman dropped his backpack and drew her sword, slowly walking toward him, barking words of challenge.

　　Just as he had done with the others, Samuel shouldered the rifle, leaned out from cover, and bathed the duo in light brighter than sunlight. The cataphract did not seem surprised, but the change did give the mount a moment of pause. It was just enough for Samuel to settle his sight on the rider`s chest.

　　His gunshot snapped, and the heavy round tore through her upper sternum, causing her to collapse into the snow. Samuel did not know if that killed her outright, but it did not matter. The beast, having noticed its rider collapsed, rushed forward. But this thing was nothing; For fucks sake, Scarletra was more horrifying than this thing was, and he did not want to hurt her.

　　Running a quick bill drill on the animal, several rounds bounced off its thick armor-like bones, not unlike bears back on Earth. But at least one bullet whizzed through the creature`s eye, popping it with a grotesque glistening ooze.

　　Collapsing to the ground with a thunderous artillery-like boom, the animal did not even whimper as every portion of its nervous control gave out instantly. Samuel sighed in relief, having expected that to be far more trouble than that. At least now he had a clear line to reach the Varintluk. He was too exhausted to fight much more; sweat and blood covered him. At least he had some fresh clothes in the vehicle.

　　Limping forward, the sound of that woman`s voice caressed his ears. But unlike before, it was weak, sputtered, and gurgled with blood. Limping up to where the woman had fallen, illuminating her with his rifle`s light, she was clearly still alive. Golden eyes filled with sorrow and defeat stared vaguely in his direction, likely unable to see his face from behind the weapon light.

　　Samuel wondered if this woman could be saved if he could stop killing for the night. But the woman reached up and roughly groped at the muzzle of his rifle while muttering vaguely, clearly not able to focus on anything at all, having missed the nearly static object several times. She was a goner; there was no saving her, even if there was a surgical team in the Varintluk.

　　He raised the rifle, ready to put her down and end her misery. But Samuel paused, seeing a small tear in her golden eyes. He tried to press forward and pull the trigger, but the crisp one-kilogram pull felt like it weighed a ton.

　　 Sighing, he put the weapon on safety and sat in the snow. Samuel didn`t know why he couldn`t shoot her and sat with her-like so many other things since arriving here. It was just the right thing to do.

　　Pushing his grip into hers, Samuel looked up at the stars and let the woman rest. He could not help her and knew it. To his surprise, she gripped his hand back; it was weak, gentle, and held no malice.

　　In an odd way, they were both a victim of their circumstance. Samuel had to reach Scarletra, but so did this woman. They simply had goals that led them to this fate. Perhaps in another world, another life, other circumstances, they could have been friends, neighbors, or anything other than a pair of strangers hell-bent on killing the other.

　　"I`m sorry it had to be like this," Samuel said, knowing the woman could not understand him.

　　The woman did attempt to respond to him; her words were weak and soft. But she was at least listening to him.

　　"I will be here until the end. It`s all I can do," Samuel admitted, hanging his head while squeezing her hand tighter.

　　They sat there for a long while. Samuel could assume it was maybe ten minutes, but he would never know. His body purging adrenaline made all sense of time twist and warp. Either way, before he realized it, the woman`s slow, wheezing breath stopped, and her grip went slack.

　　"May the Great Mother welcome you into her arms," Samuel said in solemn prayer, resting the cataphract`s hand in the snow before picking up her sword and the gear she had been rifling through.

　　Tonight was horrible, undoubtedly one of the worst nights of his life. But it was far from over. Samuel was about to use the auto surgeon and call Scarletra to update her. But from where he was, he could see muzzle flashes erupting from the outpost. Samuel slapped a tourniquet around his thigh to hurry himself along and returned to the driver`s seat. He could have the damn leg fixed later.

　　His night might be sucking, but the others were having just as bad of one. Samuel could let himself fall into a pit of self-pity. He had a job, and they needed him to do it. Lighting another cigar, Samuel gritted his teeth and pressed the pedal down; his torn apart and still wounded calf panged in agony, muscles ripping further once the pedal hit the floor.

　　He would make it to them. He would save Scareltra.