A 4k post a long time in the making, but for everyone to get stuck into and blast away with both barrels.
The section starts with Rambir's name as it is a new section within a chapter and switching character. Beyond that, it more or less stands up as a stand alone section, or I think so at least. Anyway, over to you all.
Rambir’s shoulders ached, after he’d lifted and hefted and handed out all the stored weapons, and he was relived this was the last. ‘Load… shoot… and fall back,’ he said, as he handed over the last rifle.
Ismail took the weapon; and his strong arms made the rifle look small as he took aim along empty and dusty racks. ‘Hey… whatever you say.’
Grabbing the barrel of the weapon, Rambir stared into Ismail’s dark brown eyes. ‘She has the rifle, not you.’
‘But….’
‘Give it to her.’
Arifa smiled as Ismail handed the weapon over. She was slim, with short cropped dark hair and a boyish sexiness that was all her own. Sliding the bolt back, she confidently checked the chamber was empty before holding the weapon barrel down. ‘I’m the better shot anyway,’ she said.
Rambir felt like laughing at the look Ismail gave her, his young pride had taken a hit. ‘Follow orders and stay out of trouble.’ He stepped in, meeting Arifa’s look and Rambir wondered if he was doing the right thing, they were so young. ‘One shot… fall back… that’s all you ever do… clear?’
They both nodded, heads bobbing.
‘We don’t want any foolish bravery,’ said Rambir and he waved them out of the dark storeroom. ‘If they’re Ceptor troops they’ll be Gomlu for sure and maybe more, so don’t plan on being able to kill them.’
More bobbing heads.
These two were too green and Rambir considered taking the weapon back, they had no proper training and no idea how to fight. Yet Taran’s orders were clear, they had to use everyone who volunteered, there were no other options. ‘This is not about winning,’ he added, ‘we’re to hold them here, bog them down and play for time.’
‘We know,’ replied Arifa, ‘we’ve been through this before.’
They had, as had everyone before them, but Rambir still felt the need to talk to each of them as he’d handed out rifle after rifle. ‘Don’t take chances,’ he added, unable to stop himself. ‘We don’t need heroics. You’re to hold the Ceptors here and force the Federation to act, so shoot, fall back, stay safe.’
‘We know,’ answered Ismail, with a strong arm protectively around Arifa. ‘If cornered, we surrender. There’s to be no resistance that puts us in danger.’
‘Yeah,’ added Arifa, shifting the weight of the rifle that was far too big for her, ‘our winning will be forcing the Federation’s hand.’
They’d been through the plan, time and again and Rambir knew he was repeating himself like an old man. ‘Ok… I’m worried is all.’
‘We’ve got a good spot,’ said Ismail, meeting Rambir’s look, ‘but if it doesn’t work out, we won’t take any chances, we promise.’
He still thought about taking the rifle back, of sending them back and making do without them. ‘Don’t take any chances, if you surrender, they’ll have prisoners to deal with and that will slow them down even more.’
Their heads bobbed and Rambir knew they were keen to be away; he was embarrassing them. He still wanted to take the rifle back, almost did, but then he waved them away. ‘Ok… get out of here.’ They scuttled off quick, no doubt glad to be gone.
Left alone, Rambir went back into the storage area and in useless impotent frustration he slammed a fist against an empty rack and pain shot up his arm. Blood, bright red dripped, dripped, dripped unto the dust that had gathered and gathered over the years they’d all waited and planned for this very time.
Rambir felt sick, he knew there would be more blood to come… and it felt like a trap of his own making had closed in on him.
The section starts with Rambir's name as it is a new section within a chapter and switching character. Beyond that, it more or less stands up as a stand alone section, or I think so at least. Anyway, over to you all.
Rambir’s shoulders ached, after he’d lifted and hefted and handed out all the stored weapons, and he was relived this was the last. ‘Load… shoot… and fall back,’ he said, as he handed over the last rifle.
Ismail took the weapon; and his strong arms made the rifle look small as he took aim along empty and dusty racks. ‘Hey… whatever you say.’
Grabbing the barrel of the weapon, Rambir stared into Ismail’s dark brown eyes. ‘She has the rifle, not you.’
‘But….’
‘Give it to her.’
Arifa smiled as Ismail handed the weapon over. She was slim, with short cropped dark hair and a boyish sexiness that was all her own. Sliding the bolt back, she confidently checked the chamber was empty before holding the weapon barrel down. ‘I’m the better shot anyway,’ she said.
Rambir felt like laughing at the look Ismail gave her, his young pride had taken a hit. ‘Follow orders and stay out of trouble.’ He stepped in, meeting Arifa’s look and Rambir wondered if he was doing the right thing, they were so young. ‘One shot… fall back… that’s all you ever do… clear?’
They both nodded, heads bobbing.
‘We don’t want any foolish bravery,’ said Rambir and he waved them out of the dark storeroom. ‘If they’re Ceptor troops they’ll be Gomlu for sure and maybe more, so don’t plan on being able to kill them.’
More bobbing heads.
These two were too green and Rambir considered taking the weapon back, they had no proper training and no idea how to fight. Yet Taran’s orders were clear, they had to use everyone who volunteered, there were no other options. ‘This is not about winning,’ he added, ‘we’re to hold them here, bog them down and play for time.’
‘We know,’ replied Arifa, ‘we’ve been through this before.’
They had, as had everyone before them, but Rambir still felt the need to talk to each of them as he’d handed out rifle after rifle. ‘Don’t take chances,’ he added, unable to stop himself. ‘We don’t need heroics. You’re to hold the Ceptors here and force the Federation to act, so shoot, fall back, stay safe.’
‘We know,’ answered Ismail, with a strong arm protectively around Arifa. ‘If cornered, we surrender. There’s to be no resistance that puts us in danger.’
‘Yeah,’ added Arifa, shifting the weight of the rifle that was far too big for her, ‘our winning will be forcing the Federation’s hand.’
They’d been through the plan, time and again and Rambir knew he was repeating himself like an old man. ‘Ok… I’m worried is all.’
‘We’ve got a good spot,’ said Ismail, meeting Rambir’s look, ‘but if it doesn’t work out, we won’t take any chances, we promise.’
He still thought about taking the rifle back, of sending them back and making do without them. ‘Don’t take any chances, if you surrender, they’ll have prisoners to deal with and that will slow them down even more.’
Their heads bobbed and Rambir knew they were keen to be away; he was embarrassing them. He still wanted to take the rifle back, almost did, but then he waved them away. ‘Ok… get out of here.’ They scuttled off quick, no doubt glad to be gone.
Left alone, Rambir went back into the storage area and in useless impotent frustration he slammed a fist against an empty rack and pain shot up his arm. Blood, bright red dripped, dripped, dripped unto the dust that had gathered and gathered over the years they’d all waited and planned for this very time.
Rambir felt sick, he knew there would be more blood to come… and it felt like a trap of his own making had closed in on him.
