Rescued and Ruined

Chapter 4 - Craize

The silence within the tent tells of our anticipation as we wait for our unit commander's words.

"We know nothing, despite our attempts at gathering intel," Steil begins, his secondary eyelids ghosting across his darkened orbs as he glances around the room. His sights set on the crimson trickling from Gric's nose before his striated forehead wrinkles. Continuing his sweep across our teammates, Steil's attention lands on my swollen knuckles before his lips tighten and his chest expands on a sigh. After exhaling, he continues speaking.

"The group of humans who took out the head of the organization gave us enough information so we could locate the current landing site, but we don't know what they're hauling or where they're taking it."

Steil speaks in his normal, neutral tone, all traces of agitation erased despite the aggravation roiling through the tent.

We're all on edge, the time we've spent inactive too long for everyone's psyche.

Gric rolls his massive shoulders while Fek and Lyc stand as still as statues, mirror images of each other besides their coloring. Fek's bright orange scales may stand out amidst the dull background of the tent, but Lyc's glossy black and red scales scream danger no matter how still he stands.

The promise of stability hovers within reach, our feet planted on the planet we're meant to make our home. Except we can't settle until we've eradicated the ISC.

"We may not have concrete evidence, but we know what they're moving. The humans they've trafficked are being taken somewhere underground. Our mission is to find the entrance and lead the rest of the company into enemy territory."

Steil's announcement sends a wave of relief through the tent. It settles behind my sternum and eases the throbbing of my insides.

"How many teams are following us in?" Lyc's guttural question pulls my attention to his massive frame. I've fought alongside the black and red Komu'god for many years and know better than to ignore him when he speaks. The alpha uses his words sparingly, for good reason.

"All sixteen dedicated to this ISC facility, including the medics and nonmilitary," Steil replies.

While my gut tightens at the possibility of non-fighting personnel getting hurt, everyone in our party has proven their courage. The individuals newest to us have already seen battle—no one has joined our cause since before we defended this planet from the ISC.

The threat of combat loosens the band around my chest, despite the lack of information. Dangerous missions don't always require intricate plans. In fact, the ISC has proven time and time again how unpredictable they are, and while the facility in question may have zero military protection, the chances are slight.

My blood heats and senses sharpen as my unit commander meets my eyes.

I belong on the battlefield. It's where I excel.

But I've seen enough pain written on innocent faces. My line of duty may require close contact with injured civilians, but it's never gotten easier to stomach.

Gric leans forward and cracks his meaty knuckles before speaking.

"Sweet. When do we begin?"

"Now. Suit up. Full gear. We don't know what we're going up against, so be prepared for anything," Steil replies, giving each of my teammates a pointed look before leading the way out of the tent.

As the flap closes behind our commander's broad shoulders, Gric huffs, clicks his tongue, and curls his tail around his forearm.

"Guess I'd be grumpy if I had to shove those ugly feet into boots, too," he says with his voice full of mock pity, earning himself a glare from myself, Fek, and Lyc.