The Lion's Hunt: Part 3

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PART III

The first support column carved from rock loomed large as they approached and rounded it, weapons at the ready. Luminous puddles squelched beneath their feet, but the energy of each interrupted pool dissipated behind them, dulling and congealing on the cavern floor. The disturbed fluids settled, and the cycle repeated itself in the constant rain. Commander Vyuum had assumed that theirs was the first team to arrive, but signs to the contrary began to appear as they advanced into the cavern. Scorch marks and divots sullied the cave's surfaces indicating recent weapons fire, accompanied by the unmistakable fetor of burning flesh tainting the air and forcing its way into their helmet’s filtration systems.

There were four infiltration teams allocated to this mission. Each one was kept separate from the others by design. Etom’ would not have trusted such an audacious plan to anyone but the Kurin Council, the commanders of the other three teams, and, of course, Lieutenant Rekla’Kyuul. Rekla’ knew the entire plan and had faith it would succeed, unsurprised that the council had authorised it. However, Commander Vyuum had had doubts. The commanders had spent months refining the mission before bringing it to the Kurin council, but it was not approved lightly. The request was substantial. Hundreds of thousands of lives could be lost if any part of the mission failed, but so many other factors had been considered, none more so than the unthinkable reality of losing the war. As things stood, defeat was the most likely outcome. Most commanders knew this. They were the ones experiencing those losses first-hand. The council knew it too, even if they couldn’t say as much to the populous, but some in their ranks were still of the mind that they might negotiate for peace. Fortunately, they were not in the majority. If the Surions had wanted peace, the rumoured prison for captured Kurin soldiers on the Surion moon would not exist. They wouldn’t have fleets of ships searching for the world the Kurin had ultimately fled to. They hadn’t found the Kurin’s adopted planet yet, which was the biggest advantage the Kurin had. Their adopted world was still hidden, while they knew exactly where the Surion homeworld was. It was long past time the Kurin pressed that advantage.

Defectors were becoming more common among Kurin soldiers. Few were happy with the constant struggles of war. Many were convinced that life would be easier among their Surion counterparts if they set down their arms. They were of the mind that ending hostilities could bring about peace. And thought works better suited to the larger, more muscular Surions would be done by Surions. Most that thought this hadn’t experienced life before the war. Wartime was all they knew. Life had been as the elders had told, but how could younger generations know for sure? Maybe those accounts were exaggerations, like stories told to scare children. Doubting the old tales, more Kurin were willing to negotiate with the Surions, but it had been tried again and again throughout the many long years of the war, each time ending with the same result. The Surions would inevitably betray any treaty or agreement with the Kurin, leaving a bloodbath in their wake. Time had not quelled the Surion’s delight for depravity, so Kurin soldiers with thoughts of peace could not be placed on critical missions such as this. These were the most dangerous of Kurin, but it was just as necessary to recognise the triggers to those thought processes.

There's no greater threat to the changing of a mind than time and circumstance. Soldiers at war for extended periods often end up on a mental knife edge and are more susceptible to having their thoughts swayed by outside influences. As they change their positions and switch allegiances, willingly joining the efforts of an enemy, information on their health and wellbeing are quickly cut short. Little is known of what happens to Kurin defectors, but most Kurin have an idea of the consequence. If rumours of the prisons on the Surion moon were true, it would undoubtedly be filled with regretful Kurin deserters.

Ital’Parek, Laal’Fysun, and Heiyan’Khul, the commanders of the other three infiltration squads, had all been vetted extensively, as had those in their ranks. There could be no doubts. Those with even the slightest potential to abandon their plight were removed from their posts, discharged from service, or taken for rehabilitation. No commander on this mission had been in this war as long as Etom’ or Rekla’ had, but Commander Vyuum trusted each of them greatly. It was more than their psychological evaluations. Etom’ knew them, had fought beside them. They were good soldiers, comrades, and each of them fought towards the same goal with a singular mind, the survival of their people. Etom’ was confident each of them would pour themselves into completing that mission even if it meant their deaths.

The four squads on this mission were each meant to ride one of the four elevator platforms. The platforms ran on angled tracks down from the planet's surface and allowed the squads to reach the cavern from four separate locations. If a team failed to make it to the cave, another could take up the mantle. It was a prudent plan, but radio silence to the other parties meant that it was impossible to know who had made it down to the cave first without visual confirmation. Breaking that silence could endanger the mission and all the teams involved, so they had to proceed proverbially and literally in the dark.

Tens of bodies, both Kurin and the much bulkier Surions, littered the ground as Commander Vyuum’s infiltration team advanced. Each of them grimaced behind their faceplates at the sight, but Corporal Olin’Lawal handled the view worst of all. A dizzy spell washed over the Corporal, but the young soldier remained upright. Luckily, none of the other soldiers noticed the unbalanced sway that Olin’ was quick to correct.

Tiny trails of steam wafted into the air as luminous raindrops fell into open wounds of the still warm corpses before them. The smell released from the exposed organs was rancid, too potent for the Kurin’s systems to filter out. Corporal Lawal gagged. This time the others noticed but having each gone through the experience at some point in their military careers, none of them paid it any mind. It was almost a rite of passage.

Armour of the fallen Kurin soldiers had already begun the process of consuming the hosts, thinning their bodies. However, no more than a few hours had passed since their deaths. Olin’ wasn’t as used to seeing this as the other soldiers were. It was a sight none wanted to see, nor could they easily forget. The suits would devour all the organic material there was to ingest within them. Once complete, the armour would turn on itself, eating its own flesh until all energy to function was depleted. It wouldn't be long before there was little genetic material left to identify who had held residence inside the armour. It was, at the very least, efficient.

Kurin soldiers were often hesitant to leave the bodies of their comrades behind on the battlefield. This show of camaraderie was a hindrance often exploited by their Surion adversaries, who were almost incapable of showing reverence to Kurin corpses. When they came across a dead Kurin soldier, they were known to rip the body from the armour to make use of their bodies in indecent ways. It was a horrific sight and those that beheld it were often overcome with rage, disregarding all reason and responding in a wild frenzy. When a mania induced Kurin broke ranks, even in their fury, Surion soldiers could easily pick them off. It paid for Surion soldiers to be as barbaric as they could imagine to unsettle Kurin sensibilities.

Corporal Lawal was yet to see such acts but had heard the stories and wondered how Commander Vyuum had managed to stomach seeing such atrocities for so long. Why would anyone want to remain in the field when these acts were so common? Corporal Lawal could barely stand the sight before them now, but as the youngest soldier in their ranks, it was important not to display too much physical disgust. Olin’ wanted to be seen as a warrior that had earned a place on this team. Not the shamed tailless individual the other members might have assumed was among them. The Corporal couldn’t afford to show any weakness, so stood straighter, attempting to look ready for action.

The Commander did indeed appear unphased by the bodies before them. Three decades of fighting could numb a soldier to violence, suffering, and death. Commander Vyuum had passed numb years ago, but to Olin’ the Commander’s stoicism looked like strength. To the Corporal, the Commander looked like the hero they had read about. Just being in this cave was the warrior living up to their legend. Being with them, Olin’ hoped to forge their own. Commander Vyuum’s past heroics were acts any Kurin soldier would wish to emulate. The chance to work under the Commander was granted to a fortunate few.

Commander Vyuum assessed the scene. It looked like it had been a valiant effort to survive as the earlier Kurin crew that had passed through had taken out almost three times their numbers, but what had gone wrong? How had this team fallen here? Some of the dead still clutched weapons in lifeless hands as they lay strewn across the cave floor, but the placements of the Kurin corpses made little sense. Their bodies lay facing different directions, as though they had been taking on enemies from multiple locations. They had done themselves proud by merely making it this far, but their deaths appeared to be avoidable if they had simply sought cover and not allowed themselves to be surrounded. Commander Vyuum wondered how so many Surion soldiers had gone undetected as Corporal Lawal tallied the dead. It was a task meant to make future counts less stomach-churning. It never worked.

Olin’ was surprised and concerned to reach the end of the count at seven dead Kurin warriors. Each infiltration team was supposed to have eight soldiers. This meant that the fate of the one, that appeared to be that team’s commander, was unknown.

The Commander swept a gauntleted hand across the warm cavern floor. Thick blood stuck to gloved fingers as Commander Vyuum hoped the soldier had not been captured. Knowing what Surions were capable of, death might be more welcome. Etom’ scanned the darkness for signs of activity as Corporal Lawal began humming a melody the Commander didn't recognise in an attempt to mask an uneasiness they all felt. The black felt biased, hiding any would-be assailants that might be in their midst. If this many Surion soldiers could go undetected, a difficult thing given their size and the open spaces of the cavern, there could well be more. The thought kept the Commander on guard. There didn’t appear to be any movement, but there was something. Something other than the sound of luminous liquid lightly dripping on distant stone. Commander Vyuum waved Corporal Lawal quiet. Olin’ felt like a child being silenced but followed the command without issue.

Stepping towards the faint sound, Commander Vyuum was better able to identify the noise as respiratory distress. It was a sound Etom’ had heard far too often on the battlefield.

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