My Little Destroyermen: Walker on Water

by The Atlantean

Chapter 37

Twilight’s chest heaved as she asked, “How many, Kansas?”

“Almost everyone,” the small Lemurian answered. “I think we lost every officer below me, and every senior enlisted, too. From what I can tell, our highest-ranking enlisted is a sergeant. Everyone’s wounded except me, but nothing life-threatening.”

“And the Fourth, since they’re here?”

Verun-Kanas motioned for a young recruit to come forward from the Fourth, which had, for the most part, intermingled with the Royals. That had happened mostly out of necessity when their numbers had thinned almost to the point of destruction, and it was disheartening to see: a visual reminder of how close they were. The camaraderie that had to result from such a shared desperation, on the other hand, was amazing.

Twilight’s eyes were immediately drawn to the Lemurian’s rank as he timidly approached. He only wore two chevrons and no rockers, although it was hard to see through the dirt. The look on his face told her the truth: he was wildly inexperienced for the position he’d landed in. He shakily saluted with his left arm, and Twilight glanced at his right. Her eyes widened at the amputated mess of fur and cloth, closed off by a tightly bound tourniquet.

“Corporal Louer Frat-Trak, Fourth Baalkpan Guard, ma’am,” he introduced himself. He sounded more tired than afraid.

Her suspicions confirmed, Twilight returned the salute, doing her best to not draw attention to his glaring wound. “Corporal.” She glanced around. “How’s your unit?”

“Fifty able, all wounded, ma’am. Some worse than me. I don’t know if they’ll make it to the hospital.”

“Let me see.”

Louer led her to a group of ‘Cats--around ten in total--laying on anything to keep them out of the mud. Other ‘Cats, mostly Royals with a basic understanding of Sandra Tucker’s battlefield medicine, were bandaging their wounds with dingy rags to at least keep the dirt out. As he’d said, everyone was injured to some degree, with at least one gash along the forehead or across the chest.

Twilight knelt next to one of them--a sergeant, based on her rank insignia--and brushed her hand around her wound. The sergeant’s rhino-pig leather armor had been stripped to reveal a bloody line along her gut that was too big to fully bandage. She was still alive, though, which was honestly a miracle.

Twilight closed her eyes and let magic flow into her hand. It began to glow with violet light as swirls of magic circled the wound, seeping into it. Slowly but surely, the bloody mess became the only remaining evidence. Twilight let her hand fall and looked into the Lemurian’s eyes. She looked tired. Her chest rose and fell with each breath.

Twilight moved on to the next. This one had the broken tip of a spear lodged in his armpit. Remembering her own experience during the fight for Phoenix, she carefully removed the spear tip and pressed firmly, blasting a short burst of magic into the wound to cauterize it. He didn’t scream, but he almost squirmed out of her reach.

“I’m sorry, but I need to do this, or you’ll die!” she whisper-yelled. That seemed to get him to at least calm down.

She sighed and moved on to the third, then the fourth, fifth, all the way to the tenth. Unfortunately, when she knelt beside him, he gave one final, gurgling cough and stopped moving. She felt his wrist for a pulse, but his heart had gone silent.

“I wasn’t quick enough,” she said, her voice quiet with failure. “I’m sorry.” She sighed, stood, and looked around. Lieutenant Tucker’s medical corps was still working its way over. “Let’s go to the barricade, everyone,” she called.

Slowly, the tired ‘Cats of the Royals and Fourth Guard moved. Some of them had fallen asleep against each other in little pyramids, using their comrades’ backs to stay upright. They now woke up, gathered their weapons and gear, placed the worst on makeshift stretchers, and walked shoreward, towards the remaining soldiers of the AEF and their Aryaalan allies.

A big, burly man standing guard next a bunch of ‘Cats waved from his position near the hospital tent. With a quick glance in the tent, he bounded over, hefting a BAR in his arms. A bloodied Thompson was slung over his shoulder, and what she could see of his cutlass was notched.

“Mr. Silva,” she said. “I’m glad to see you’re alive.”

“Yeah,” he replied. “They got a buncha good’uns though.”

Twilight looked up at him. “Mr. Felts?”

“Tom’s gone. Saw ‘im go down when the line broke, near the river.” The slightest tear of emotion glinted in his eye: the only time she’d ever seen him sad. The gunnery crews seemed like they’d always been extremely close. Losing some of their own would be a serious blow to the normally boisterous deck division.

“I’m so sorry. I should’ve been here sooner. I could’ve saved so many lives if I hadn’t been so focused on my damn magic!” She drove her mage-sword into the mud, radiating fury and sorrow and… she didn’t even know anymore. Around the blade, the ground dried and cracked as if she was burning the moisture out of it. After a few seconds, the fire in her eyes died, and she replaced the sword into her scabbard. Silva didn’t seem to react beyond mild curiosity.

“How’s Captain Reddy? Is he alright?”

“I think he’ll be fine, but Miz Tucker’s the one to ask.” He gestured to the hospital tent, where two Marines stood guard. “He’s in there.”

Twilight opened the tent flap, careful to not run anyone over (or be run over herself), and stepped inside. Most of Sandra’s hospital corps consisted of ‘Cats, but a couple new human faces joined them now. Neither was Karen Theimer, as the young ensign had stayed in Baalkpan to continue expanding the corps. Sandra herself was in the corner tending to a man resting in a medical cot.

“Lieutenant Tucker,” she said as she approached.

Sandra looked up from her bandaging. A light lost from her eyes seemed to reignite a little, pushing back an endless sea of blood and misery. “Twilight!”

“Don’t worry, I’m alright. There’s some Cat’s from my regiments that’ll need some help. Maybe a new arm, too.”

“Of course.” Sandra gently pressed her hand into the man’s hand and stood after she finished applying clean bandages to his wounds.

“Captain Reddy?”

Sandra gestured to the man, and Twilight finally recognized the youngish face underneath the mostly-cleared mud and dirtied uniform. “He’ll be alright. That polta paste is really a lifesaver!”

“I’ll bet.”

They exited the tent, where the Royals and Fourth were finally getting better medical treatment than they themselves could provide. A couple more awnings rose to shelter their wounded. Twilight spotted Verun-Kanas and Louer coordinating efforts for their units, and she led Sandra to them.

Sandra’s face paled when she saw Louer’s arm. “Oh my God, we need to treat that now!” She immediately called a team of ‘Cats to carry him into the main tent, where the worst injuries were. She then called a couple other teams to work through the new arrivals. “I really must go,” she said, and returned to the field hospital.

“Ma’am?” Verun asked.

Twilight sat on a particularly large rock underneath the awning. “Let’s just settle in for now and stay out of the doctors’ way. Can you see to it, Kanas?”

Verun saluted and left, leaving Twilight to gaze tiredly at the ocean of injured ‘Cats and exhausted veterans of the first big battle the war against the Grik was sure to have.

Author's Note:

I hope everyone's doing fine in these quarantined times. It really is an uncertain moment in history, and how we react will define our generations.

But what isn't uncertain? That more MLD is coming soon! We're approaching another critical point, and based on the length of the doc I'm using, it's almost time for the next part of the story because I don't want to be opening a 200-page Google Doc every time I want to work on this. With Size 12 Arial font and 3 blank lines between each chapter, it's 146 pages long at the moment, and each chapter adds 2-3 pages to it.

So in the near future of this story, I'll be closing this part and opening another. Thought you guys might want a little heads-up even if it's a couple months or so out.

Comments

[Yutah123]

Casualty rates?

[The Atlantean]

10166378
I don't have the exact numbers, but I'd image that they'd be fairly high.