We Came In Spastic, Like Tameless Horses

[Untaaura Verratoa]

The book never closed. The chapter never came to an end. The quill rested on the period of the end of a sentence, ink wicking into paper like a bloodstain. But it never ended. Sometimes, the lull compelled the reader to pick up from an earlier point. Relive some earlier part of the story, to try and sift through the ashes of memory for something undiscovered. Or maybe that was too benign. Maybe there was something that had come before and hadn't yet been paid its due.

Untaaura had tried so hard to escape, but she was bound to the pages of her story like they were made of fly paper. She could get out of her story, but it meant tearing herself apart. She'd seen her fair share of friends go that way. Suicide was just a casualty of war deferred. Just as sure as if a marine stepped in the wrong place and popped a mine. It didn't give a damn about ceasefires, armistices, treaties. Blood was still blood, and years after Thalassia, it still wicked onto the page. She'd made the mistake of pulling up the obituaries on the HoloNet, only to find a tidy two paragraphs for Nataarri Arrahuuya. Retired Captain of the Jaani'saarri. Survived by her husbands Arrautho and Jorri, and daughter Karriiya. No cause of death in the obit. She'd put in a few calls, and it didn't take long to find the ugly truth of it. She didn't eat her blaster, easy as that might have been. They'd all seen enough blood to never want another share. Instead, she simply ran a line from the exhaust of her speeder into the canopy, and let it idle in her garage. Slow, gentle, and kind. But just as dead as everyone else.

This wasn't the first time, and it wouldn't be the last. Thalassia had a one hundred percent casualty rate. The body count was just a changeable statistic. And it drew Untaaura into orbit of that dangerous flame, inviting her to remember and to live in the past. Alcohol quickened that path, and Untaaura had picked up a bottle of Ujja the moment her shift ended, beelining it for her quarters. She threw the bed frame against the door, and curled against the mattress in the corner. A bottle of raw, burning liquor in one hand, and a shoebox in the other. She plugged from the bottle a few greedy gulps, forcing the rotgut in before she'd protest. It lit a fire in her belly, and Untaaura wiped trace moisture from her lips with the back of her hand as she screwed the cap back on. Her hand stayed over the shoebox lid, hesitating. There were a lot of ghosts inside, and a lot of pain. But as bad as that might be, the possibility that she might forget felt worse by far. Reverently, she eased the lid away. It shouldn't have surprised her what she'd see first, but she wasn't ready to face it. It wasn't even from the Siege. A holoflimsi taken much earlier, on a planet far away from Thalassia...

[Untaaura Verratoa]

Taltimant
Twenty-nine years ago


It weighed heavy on a child's heart to see all her worldly possessions packed into boxes. You never considered home as something that could be anything else than what it was, until it wasn't. Untaaura still hadn't gotten over it. She spent the two hour flight from Carshoulis to Taltimant in the hold, looking over the dozens of boxes that had been their lives on the mother world. Everything she knew bundled into boxes printed with books and clothes and family holos. It came with the understanding that when they were unpacked, none of it would be in their home, the place she'd spent her whole life. In the dark of the cargo hold, she permitted herself to cry. Little sniffling child's tears, quiet out of politeness. She'd never see her schoolmates or friends again.

"Untaaura?" a voice called out in the dark.

Quickly, the girl tidied up her sniffles, scrubbing the moisture fastidiously from her eyes as she drew her knees to her chest, hoping that she wouldn't be found out in her hiding place. But she was. Orruko, her father, wasn't easily fooled by a cub who was habitually prone to hiding. He peered around a stack of boxes, giving his girl a respectful distance.

"Ressahi," he called by her familiar, "don't jyou want to ssee the planet when we arrjive?"

Untaaura steadfastly shook her head. Orruko plied her with a look of father's sympathy, smile turning up with ears deferred.

"Okajy. jYou don't have to." He paused, hands on his knees. "Can jI sstajy herre wjith jyou?"

Untaaura blinked her tear-swollen eyes, and nodded. The moment Orruko came close, she curled into his arms. Her petulant misery was tiring, and as much as Untaaura wanted to lodge protest, she wanted the proximity of her daddy. She sniffled again, and he simply let her work it out, patting her on the back.

"jI know jit'ss not eassjy rrou'ani. jI djidn't move untjil the dajy jI marrjied jyourr mama, but jI crrjied too."

Untaaura looked up from her solace.

"Werren't jyou happjy to marrjy mama?"

"Oh, jI wass, jI wass." Orruko nodded emphatically with a smile. "Happjiesst dajy of mjy ljife. But sstjill, leavjing jyourr old home behjind jiss harrd. All the famjiljiarr placess and old frrjiendss, jitss harrd to do even jif what jyou'rre headed to jiss worrth jit."

"Whatss sso sspecjial about Taltimant?" Untaaura grumped, bumping her head into her father's chest as she wriggled for a comfortable position to sulk.

"Oh, jitss verrjy beautjiful Ressahi. All the mountajinss, all the ssnow, jI thjink jyou'll come to love jit."

Untaaura remained silent, preferring to think inwardly rather than talk. Her father knew his little girl had an introverted nature, and it took effort to coax her out. He squeezed her shoulder.

"The fjirrsst thjing we'll do when we get therre, we'll bujild a ssnowrrou."

Curiosity got the better of her, and Untaaura cut off her self-pity, listening to what her father had to say. Snow-rrou, like in the movies?

"Papa, that ssoundss njice. Can jI unpack fjirrsst?"

Orruko almost laughed, but thought better of it. He simply smiled, shook his head in mild disbelief, and tousled his daughter's hair slightly.

"Werre jyou alwajyss sso sserrjiouss?"

"jI jusst want to get everrjythjing out of the boxess, sso jit wjill be home. Then we can bujild a ssnowrrou."

Orruko kissed Untaaura on the cheek, and held her close, sharing her hiding space between the boxes.

"Asss jyou ssajy, ljittle one. We'll make ourr new home fjirrsst."

[Untaaura Verratoa]

She could see the snow-rrou from her window, but that was as far as Untaaura cared to venture. Everything was so quiet here. Nothing felt like home, where every second and every moment teemed with sound that beat the humid air. The trees cast shadows almost as long as sky towers, but they were eerily still. Only the occasional wind gave you cause to look up, through boughs of snow-pregnant evergreen. Daddy tended to the fireplace, one of the foreign luxuries Untaaura literally warmed to, keeping it well-fed with wood while mama went down the valley for work in Urraiapaarri village. Even that word seemed so out of place. Village. Untaaura could peer out of the living room window and see all the way down the valley. The village below looked small enough that she could reach out her cupped hands and scoop it up. Everything else was trees, mountains, and snow. She'd never felt this lonely in her whole life.

Untaaura disappeared into her books. Stories about star captains and adventures and mythological creatures from long ago. Daddy made sure she didn't starve, making sure to check in every few hours with a glass of blue milk and some ubbak liver. Other than that, he respected the space she needed. Her brothers, Raanshu and Kurrifar, needed no cajoling to adapt. They readily took to the snow, breaking the calm outside with rambunctious snowball fights. The noise from outside occasionally distracted their bookish sister, who window-gazed, wondering what was wrong with her. Why could everyone else just accept this, and she couldn't?

One day, another sound interrupted her reading. It wasn't the ominous swaying of pine trees or the sound of laughing brothers tromping in the snow. It was a whinny. Untaaura's ears perked. She set aside her glass of blue milk, pressing her nose to the glass of her bedroom window in time to see an Orpak. She'd never seen a real one, and she'd only read about them. Pack and riding animals suited to the mountains. This one had a fluffy woolen coat that flared magnificently down each sturdy leg. The only problem was that it was eating her snow-rrou! She hadn't given a sajoi about the thing since she'd built it with daddy, but now it was under attack and she was mad. Untaaura stormed out of the house, forgetting her coat as she went to confront the animal.

"Hejy! Hejy jyou!"

Untaaura hardly cut an imposing figure, but she assumed the most menacing posture she could, pointing at the beast with an authoritative finger.

"Don't eat that!"

The Orpak fluttered its long black lashes, snorted, and took another chomp of snow out of the snow-rrou's head. Untaaura pushed against the animal's sturdy neck, causing her little hands to sink into the wool. The Orpak wasn't threatened in the slightest, and tipped down to butt it's wet nose over her forehead, blasting her with warm breath.

"Sstop that!"

[Kuurrumaai Traahoya]

"Yuukaarri... !!"

The call was distant at first, echoing through the surrounding trees before breaking out into the clearing a short ways off. It echoed further a few more times before dying out, and the girl felt her features pinch into an annoyed grimace, her mitten-clad hands balled into little fists that were squarely planted upon her hips. She stood ankle-deep in the snow, a short ways from the walking path she'd been trudging along. That dumb Orpak. Why did he always wander off??!

Frowning, the girl huffed out a breath before tromping back onto the path and continuing onward.

"Yuukaarri... !!"

And again her voice bounced off the trees around her before escaping into the clearing ahead.

Another 'hmph', and she trudged onward. Insulated snowboots matched the bulky over-pants she wore, and her seemingly oversized jacket shielded her from the cold of the snow along with a pullover hat that really only barely corralled the mop of coppery hair that splayed out from beneath its' edges.

Another voice reached her then, and she stopped at the edge of the treeline.

"Sstop that!"

Blinking, Kuurrumaai Traahoya sidestepped so that she was hidden behind one of the large Liiassa trees rooted along the path she'd been traveling. Both hands went out to press against the knurled bark as she peaked around to see the owner of the voice, and her blue eyes widened at the sight of the wayward Orpak and a girl.

Wait, a girl?!

She'd thought there were only two boys in the new family that'd moved in to the old Kaassumarri Place?!

Emboldened in a moment of intense curiosity, Kuurrumaai stepped away from her short-lived hiding spot to muscle her way up through the snow and towards the girl and Yuukaarri.

On hand raised up then, covered in brightly knitted colors.

"Hyi!"

[Untaaura Verratoa]

Untaaura wasn't expecting that. Disarmed from her moment of aggression, the little girl relented, giving initiative to the Orpak, who changed the part in her hair with the sloppy swipe of its long black tongue.

"Eeugh!"

She shambled back in the snow, trying to undo the damage, but her mop of blonde hair was now a gooey mess. Strangely, Untaaura didn't care that much. She looked at the source of the voice, finding it's source easily in a bright array of quilted clothing. It was a weird moment of clarity that blew away all of her disaffected ennui of being a city girl on a mountain planet. Whoever she was, she looked interesting. It wasn't even anything Untaaura could quantify. Partly the clothes, partly the way she stood in the snow without seeming to wobble in the drifts.

"Hello?"

Far from the bold salutation of the girl, Untaaura's counter seemed almost mousy. To make matters worse, she was completely aware of how meek it sounded in comparison, and she made a face.

"jIss thjiss jyourr Orpak?"

The animal had stopped trying to butt its way into Untaaura's personal space, and fluttered its long lashes back at the girl in the trees.

[Kuurrumaai Traahoya]

A bright smile then, and Kuurrumaai rolled her eyes in a show of self-flagellation.

"jYeah, that'ss Yuukaarri. He's a stupid old oaf."

Stomping her way up the path and towards the girl and Yuukaarri, she rolled her shoulders in a sort of apologetic motion meant to not really be an apology.

"He'ss kjinda a wanderrerr. Alwajyss fjindss a wajy outta hjis corrral. Mjy motherr onljy keepss hjim 'causse he ussed to be herr old sshow Kaasu. jI thjink he'ss only good forr the rrange fjieldss."

She slowed to a stop beside the shaggy body of the Orpak, and with a quick hand grabbed a hold of the halter before her other zipped out to hook a lead clip that seemingly appeared out of nowhere from the deep pocket of her snowpants.

As if it was an afterthought, Kuurrumaai let her eyes shift to the snow-rrou, and she reached out with her free hand to run a palm over the 'torso'.

"Djid jyou make that?"

[Untaaura Verratoa]

Her bravado was fading, and with it, her sudden cold resistance. Untaaura resisted the urge to shiver, feeling the chill most acutely in her damp hair. Instead, she watched with fascination how easily this country girl brought the Orpak under control. She could have shoved the Orpak until exhaustion and not moved it an inch, and this newcomer had it practically in the palm of her hand. She tried not to gawk. Fortunately, the girl changed the subject.

"The ssnow-rrou? Uh jyeah. jI djid wjith mjy d..."

She almost said daddy. How juvenile.

"Wjith mjy fatherr."

Untaaura inspected the handiwork. Even with a few chomps out of it, the snow sculpture remained mostly intact.

"jI hadn't sseen ssnow beforre."

There was a tingle in the tips of her ears, like she was missing a moment. In a rare show of extroversion, Untaaura thrust forward her hand.

"jI'm Untaaura."

[Kuurrumaai Traahoya]

One ear fluttered, and Kuurrumaai regarded the offered hand for only a moment before reaching out to grasp it, a wide smile pulling the corners of her lips back to expose brilliantly white teeth.

"I'm Kuurrumaai."

Yuukaarri gave a long, bruffed exhale through his nose as if to introduce himself, his neck muscles tensing only seconds before he gave a shake of his head. It was enough to make her grin, and Kuurrumaai let her shoulders sag in that way the young ones did when they were exasperated with a creature's antics.

"Well, therre'ss lotss of ssnow herre, sso jyou can make ass manjy snow-rrou's ass jyou want."

And a moment later she changed the subject.

"jI djidn't know jyou ljived herre; jI onljy everr ssaw the two bojyss wheneverr thejy werre out makjing a bunch of nojisse and sstuff."

[Untaaura Verratoa]

She talked, and the more she talked, the more Untaaura hung on every word. There was something about this country girl that demanded attention, and Untaaura quickly tallied the things that set them apart. Kuurrumaai was tall, Untaaura was short. Kuurrumaai had a thick mane of strawberry hair, and Untaaura's was plain and ordinary pale blonde, chopped in a boring mop. Kuurrumaai was golden tan with rare and pretty spot marks, and Untaaura was plainly mocha and stripe. Untaaura's own grin contrasted Kuurrumaai's as much as everything else contrasted between them. When she smiled, it was all snow-white teeth. Untaaura's smile was bashful runt of an expression in which the lips didn't dare part to show teeth.

They even talked different. Kuurrumaai spoke in the slower cadence and softer consonants of a Taltimant drawl - so different from the rapid concise sound of Carshoulis Cizeri. But that wasn't it, not really. Untaaura had heard enough people here talk to know what it sounded like. When they talked, they sounded a bit dim, but with the same accent Kuurramaai sounded stylishly drawn. As if of course she was taking longer to talk, but it was a journey and she still knew exactly where she was going with it.

At mention of making as many snow-rrous as she wanted, Untaaura sidled herself between her new guest and the mangled, crudely-formed snow sculpture. Daddy had meant well, but that was kid stuff. Who wanted to make a snow-rrou when you had an Orpak??

"Oh, them. Thejy'rre mjy brrotherrss." Untaaura curtly explained away Raanshu and Kurrifar, covertly glancing to each side in hopes that they weren't about to gallop out of the house and ruin this. She didn't want to have to dodge her brothers. Or talk about them that much, really. Instead, Untaaura's eyes wandered back to Yuukaarri, who was busy raking a hoof over an exposed patch of ground, looking for any alpine shoots that hadn't already been picked over.

"Can jyou rrjide hjim?"

[Kuurrumaai Traahoya]

Kuurrumaai gave a wide grin at that, and a little chuckle as she shook her head.

"Naaw. He'ss too old to rrjide. Motherr ssajyss he'd mosst ljikeljy fall down and djie jif anjyone ssat on hjim nowdajyss."

A mittened hand came up then, to pat the old Orpak on the shoulder as if to commiserate with the animal over its' age.

"jI have mjy own Orpak back home," her affectionate pat became a hard few slaps, but still remained playful as her smile only grew wider and her off-hand gestured a small ways back along the path she'd been on behind her.

"She'ss much betterr behaved and not qujite sso sshaggjy ass thjiss old man."

And again bright eyes went to Untaaura, searching the other girl's face with a keen eye, intent and interest plain to see in her expression.

"jI hearrd back jin town that jyourr famjiljy moved frrom Carshoulis."

[Untaaura Verratoa]

Untaaura hid her meager disappointment that Yuukaarri was too past his prime for riding. Not that she'd ever try something like that. A training speeder was one thing, but training speeders wouldn't bite or kick you if they got an attitude! No, she just wanted to watch something like that - in person. She'd seen plenty of Tarriwood holos with orpak rides, but it was fast becoming clear to Untaaura that the real deal was infinitely more interesting. Orpaks looked bigger in person. They smelled, but not too bad - mostly like hay. She liked Yuukaarri's pretty long-lashed eyes, and the warm puffs of air he made when he snuffled in her direction. And it was clear that Kuurramaai was fond of him too. Definitely wasn't simply some pack beast or forrda of last resort.

Kuurramaai moved the topic of discussion, and Untaaura found it a little odd that their family was a topic of discussion in the village. Did people here have nothing better to talk about? Still, she brought it up. Untaaura nodded her head.

"We ljived jin Orr'taihonee djisstrrjict all mjy ljife." She tugged at an eartip, a nervous habit of hers that currently helped distract her from the chill she felt now that her initial adrenaline had subsided.

[Kuurrumaai Traahoya]

"jI bet jit wass amazjing."

Words spoken with a slight breathless tone. Kuurrumaai couldn't help herself, and halfway leaning against Yuukaarri, she also angled slightly so that her lean was pitched a little bit forward.

"jI've onljy been to Carshoulis once, and that wass forr a sschool trjip two jyearrss ago. Sso much husstle and busstle, jit was fun."

Her smile shifted to something deeper and accepting.

"But, jit'ss njice herre, too. Qujiet and not too fasst. jIt'ss jusst the rrjight sspeed. Mjy motherr alwajyss ssajys that a fasst ljife leadss to a fasst grrave, but jif jyou ljive sslower and ssprjinkle jin the hjigh pacess, then jyou have the rrecjipe forr a full ljife."

At that, the girl gave a shrug as her head angled to the side, eyes closing with the expression and motion.

"Who knowss. Majybe sshe'ss rjight."

Those blue eyes brightened then, and she fixed Untaaura with a hopeful look.

"jYou sshould come overr for supperr tonjight. Fatherr jis makjing mahajoi butterr currrjy. jIt's the besst on the planet, jI sswearr."

[Untaaura Verratoa]

There wasn't really any part of Orr'taihonee that could have fit with Kuurrumaai's breathless praise, so Untaaura guessed it was probably Hai'raathee, Ruuka'hooi, Forrdatown, or the Royal precinct. The only amazing part of Orr'taihonee was how you could fit that many millions of people into a slice of city that small. Still, she had nothing but happy memories there. Three hundred levels of apartments up and down, so you never wanted for other kids to play games. Most anything you wanted was a call and a delivery away, and if it wasn't, you could skytransit across the globe and get it. Even thinking about it filled Untaaura with such a strong nostalgia that she could hear the sea of voices and feel the warm breeze.

Now, she was in a place so cold it caused her teeth to knock and with so few people she could see an entire village out of her window. But the way Kuurramaai talked about it was like hearthfire, and the shorter Cizerack was warming to the appeal. The drawled platitude sounded less corny and cliche and more authentic, and Untaaura wanted to know and feel more about a place that only a few days ago she detested. So that when Kuurramaai invited her to supper, Untaaura shook the shiver out of her bones and perked her ears.

"jI'll go assk mjy fatherr!"

With that, Untaaura bolted for the house, feeling oddly euphoric. She tromped packed snow on her shoes halfway down the hall, calling out as she went.

"Daddjy daddjy! jI got jinvjited forr ssupperr bjy a nejighborr gjirrl, can jI go?"

Orruko popped his head out from the master bedroom.

"jYou djid? That'ss grreat, Ressa!" He paused, stepping out into the hall to meet his breathless, lightly-frostbitten child. "What arre jyou dojing wjithout a jacket?"

"Dunno." Untaaura was already wriggling into her coat, pausing only to stuff a woolen hat over her flopped ears. "Herr orpak wass eatjing ourr ssnow-rrou, and jI went to sshoo jit off. Herr name'ss Kuurrumaai, err, not the orpak, the gjirrl!"

Orruko quietly let his little one suck up all the air in the room. Untaaura was never the most outgoing cub, so these rare moments were nurtured. He knelt down to her level, putting a hand over each shoulder.

"jI've got jyou ssome blue mjilk and ubbak ljiverr, but jI ssupposse jyourr brrotherrss won't mjind havjing jit jinsstead. jYou can go."

"jYess!"

"But jI'm drrjivjing jyou therre jin the sspeederr. jIf jyourr motherr let jyou out therre to frreeze, jI'd neverr hearr the end of jit."

Untaaura rushed forward, wrapping her arms around Orruko's neck.

"jI love jyou daddjy."

[Untaaura Verratoa]

Present Day

Two girls. One tall, one short. They stood framed in the center of the picture, on an outcrop looking clear down to the valley. Untaaura wasn't sure how much longer after their first meeting this picture was taken, but she knew that from day one, Kuurrumaai was the kind of friend you kept. How different would everything have been if they'd never met?

The Major set aside the flimsi. Just beneath it, she found another one. One taken many years later with two girls. One tall, one short.


Thalassia
Six kilometers from Johuek village, south of hill 338
Five years ago

Someone once said that war was ninety-nine percent boredom and one percent terror. The numbers may not have passed muster, and their may have been a gradient. Part of that lioness's share of boredom must have been colored by the onset of dread - a niggling itch in the wrinkle of your brain that informed you about a bad feeling, often contrary of anything you might see or hear. That was a part of The Shit. You had a bad feeling about it, but who cared? Everyone had a bad feeling about it. Nobody called for the Marines when they had a good feeling about anything. You went to The Shit to roll in it, wade chin-deep in it, so none of the good women back home had to lose sleep over a bad feeling.

That was called doing your civic duty, for whoever still believed that. The Jaani'saarri were 90% male enlistees, so they sure as hell didn't. Most got here because their mamas couldn't afford the extra mouth to feed. Maybe a few had a hard-on for grandeur and swallowed up the tall tales about a million-to-one chance of meeting the Pride Mother as part of the Royal Harem - getting the chance to wear dress crimsons and be a twinkle in her eyes when she visited the lines to support the troops or sport fuck. Then there were the ones that didn't rate to be good at anything else, so why not learn to kill? The Commandant liked those marines the best - the killers. Because the Trade Marines were meant to kill. It was their religion, their nirvana, their raison d'être. The ten percent of the corps that were the female officer class? You fed the civic duty line to them. If that didn't work, you paid for college, sold them on the travel or marketable skills. If none of that worked and you were lucky, they were born-again killers too. But what mattered most is that they knew how to point the other ninety percent toward the enemy.

The rain was coming down as mist, keeping a persistent damp blanket around everything. The water collected on the non-permeable ponchos, forming beads until they drip-drip-dripped down the fringe to the ground. On the unpaved pack roads, the sand and clay mix turned into ruts, and when you marched, half your time was spent dodging the really thick sucking slog that would pull a boot off your foot when you took your next step. Nobody wanted to police up a mud-filled boot. Of course, marching through that kind of suck was bad, but not going anywhere was worse. And that's presently where they were going - nowhere.

Cresh company drew the fuck straw, so they got point. Nobody wanted point, but everyone's lot came up sooner or later. Too bad Cresh's straw was extra short, because they drew point on bad terrain. The pack road out of Johuek followed the hill country terrain, full of narrow chokes and switchbacks to advance under least resistance. It meant that the bottleneck closed in some parts so that you could only march three abreast. Perfect ambush scenario if the fin-ears wanted to turn the screws. You learned ricky-tick in The Shit to make note of elevated positions. Even in the foggy mist, three slate-grey humps of hilltops could be seen, easily in mortar range. If the Thalassians cooked off an enveloping barrage, they could easily lose the entire company before they could mark the positions for counter-battery fire. There wasn't any mortar fire though. Not even any distant tells of pot-shots from small arms. The forest up and down slope was full of the sound of trees shivering off excess moisture, and the hoo-hoops of Rocau birds. So what was the damned holdup?

Untaaura swished aside her poncho, plunging her hand into her breast pocket to retrieve smokes. She sparked up, not having to worry about heavy rain that might prevent a light. Besh Company was a quarter click back down the road, sandwiched between Cresh and Dorn with Aurek and the gear. It was the best of a shit situation. Didn't have to worry about stumbling tits-first into an ambush. Didn't have to worry about a flank and destroy at the rear, in case the fin-ears were extra thorough and wanted to bottle up and prevent a retreating column. It just meant standing around with your thumb up your ass and being the last woman to know what was happening when nothing was happening at all.

"Prrobabljy an jIED." Snaggle commented unsolicited with a shrug. His real name was Korrarri, but nobody in Besh called him that. He'd lost one of his fangs in a wrestling match as a teen, so the reason for that nickname was written on his face. He also seemed to appear out of the mist whenever anyone sparked a cigarette, looking to borrow one. Untaaura begrudgingly shook one out to him from her pack. It wasn't like they'd run out of smokes. They might not have enough body armor, the Jaani'saarri always issued cigarettes. How Snaggle never seemed to have any of his own, she'd never know.

"No one'ss called back forr demo." Untaaura lit Snaggle's cigarette. With nobody moving, a group of a half dozen formed a gossip circle.

"jYeah, becausse jif thejy blow thjiss pack rroad, jit'ss anotherr ten cljickss rroundabout to objectjive."

That elicited a fresh round of bitching.

"Fuck jif jI'm walkjing anotherr ten cljicks. Mjy feet arre ssoaked to sshjit alrreadjy." Rosskarr spat in the mud, rocking on his ankles.

"Becausse jyou lace 'em up ljike a ljimp-djick." Snaggle commented gesturing with the barrel of his rifle at the grabasstic disorder of slack laces. "How the fuck djid thejy everr make jyou a Jaani'sarr, Rosskarr, jyou can't even tjie jyourr own goddess-damned bootss?"

That got a few hoots of laughter, except Rosskarr wasn't laughing.

"jI know how to tjie mjy bootss. jYou wanna losse that ssecond fang?"

Untaaura watched the two marines square, and immediately inserted herself before it went beyond that.

"Ssave jit forr the fjinss, asssholess. Rosskarr, poljice thosse lacess. Ssnaggle, go be ssomeone elsse'ss prroblem."

"jI'm gojing, jI'm gojing." Snaggle waved away the tension. "Thankss forr the ssmoke, Preita'rrou."

"jYeah jyeah, whateverr."

The silence returned for a moment, broken only a moment later by the sharp sound of sucking teeth. Untaaura's ears triangulated back to Rosskarr, in the middle of drawing his laces. There was a pained look on his face, which he quickly averted.

"What'ss jyourr damage, Marrjine?"

"Nothjing ma'am. jIt'ss nothjing."

Untaaura hunched down to where he was squatting to tie. The pinched look on his face didn't subside.

"Rremove that boot, marrjine."

Rosskarr djid what he was told. The boot slid off with a wet squelch, leaving a damp sock caked in grey mud around the ankle. Down towards the toe, something red wicked through.

"The ssock too."

Grimacing, Rosskarr peeled the sock away inch by inch. The heel emerged, pale and water-logged, with skin peeling along the calloused edges. The fraying got worse down the foot, until reaching the toes. The water-logged skin was sloughing down enough to bleed, separating near the quick of the big toe claw.

"Eugh!"

"jI ssajid djissappearr, Ssnaggle! Go get Doc."

The toe seeped. The blood didn't so much as flow so much as it oozed a coagulated mess. Even in proximity to the mud, it stank.

[Kuurrumaai Traahoya]

She was at the head of the group, sharp blue eyes darting between wide jabu leaves and thick underbrush in search of the enemy. It was damp, hot, musty, humid, and miserable. Nothing like Taltimant. She often let her thoughts wander back to home when they were shin-deep in a shit swamp, crotches burning with Traanjirra's fiery heat seeping up from the ground. So much not like home. Why couldn't there be snow? Sure, there were hills and trees, but they weren't the same... well they were, but they were different in their own way. Instead of the dark green conifers, there were higher brown trunks with a more vibrantly colored green tint to the wide leaves high above. Even the ground cover was different; more dense and full.

"Don't ssee much, Ssjirr."

The marine to her left was as focused on the terrain ahead as she was.

Lifting a hand, Kuurrumaai let her gloved palm pass down over her eyes momentarily.

"Of courrsse jyou don't. Thejy arren't gonna jump out and tell you wherre thejy arre."

"Would be njice jif thejy djid."

"Goddesss jyess jit would."

It was one of those conflict-driven things a person said that cut to the heart of everything. The wish for an open conflict; to fight in an area that wasn't all hiding spots and blinds.

"Too bad we'rre not that luckjy, ne?"

The marine hefted his rifle with one hand, his free hand moving up to scratch at an itch along the roadmap of scars along the right sight of his face, his eyes never leaving the deceptively calm scene before them.

"Neverr that luckjy, Ma'am."

[Untaaura Verratoa]

The closer he got to the head of the column, the stronger the urge came to scratch an itch that wasn't there. Snaggle welded the butt of his heavy rifle to his shoulder, keeping the business end low but ready to swing up at the sound of incoming. Nearing the head of Besh's line, he brushed shoulders where the walking room got thin until he found Su'taun'rrou Traahoya doing what they were all doing, watching the everything and nothing.

"Doc." He called out pointedly without raising his voice. A bloodbug buzzed onto his forearm, and he spit it away.

"Hejy, Doc. El-Tee needss jyou, rrjickjy-tjick. jYou got a ssmoke?"

[Kuurrumaai Traahoya]

With a sigh that seemed longer and more drawn out than the ones that'd come before, Kuurrumaai slowly leaned back before turning on her heel. Her gaze met Snaggle's for only a moment before she stepped carefully away from the marine she'd been chattering with. A hand gave his shoulder a light pat.

"Keep jyourr ejyess peeled, Nip. Don't want to be ssurrprrjissed."

"jYes Ma'am."

Passing by Snaggle on her way to the rear of the line, she gave him a familiar disapproving glare that wasn't entirely serious; it was more ritual than anything else.

"jI don't ssmoke, Snaggle," she gave his helmet a solid thunk with a knuckle.

"And nejitherr sshould jyou."

[Untaaura Verratoa]

"jYeah jyeah Doc, hearrd thatss hazarrdouss to jyourr health."

Snaggle grinned sarcastically, revealing the gap in his teeth.

"jI'll add jit to the ljisst, jyeah? jIss that ahead of morrtarrss orr behjind them? Not that jit matterrss, jI'm too prrettjy to djie."

They arrived to the rear of Besh's line, finding Untaaura standing next to Rosskarr, who'd taken a seat on the ground, holding up his throbbing foot.

"Monssoon rrot." Untaaura blew out a puff of smoke before dropping her cigarette in the mud. "Lookss ljike jit'ss earrljy, but thjiss dumbasss wanted to plajy jit cool."

It wasn't anything they hadn't seen before. Enough moisture, warmth, and friction, and it could happen to anyone. Early, you could nip it with a kolto salve and a wrap. Late is when it got serious. Amputation serious. Rosskarr just might have been dumb enough to pretend too long, if he hadn't been found out.

"Don't ssupposse jit'ss a tjicket back home, eh?" Rosskarr winced, but tried not to look too pained, playing it off cool.

Untaaura stepped back to give Kuurramaai room to do her thing, exchanging with her a little eye roll.

[Kuurrumaai Traahoya]

"No tjicket home, jyou earr-drraggerr."

Kuurrumaai let out a grunt as she squatted down, both hands going out to take hold of his leg. One gripped the ankle as the other traced a finger along the arch of Rosskarr's foot. Didn't look too bad, but you never knew with that streak of stubborn harruaah pride that ran thick through the ranks of the Jaani'saarri marines. The idiot could've been walking on it for a week.

Slender fingers expertly shifted so that her thumb pressed the narrow hollow next to the ball of his foot. It wasn't an angry pressure, but it was enough to cause the toes to involuntarily splay out.

She gave an unimpressed sniff, locking her eyes with Rosskarr's.

"How long've jyou been hjiding thjiss?"

[Untaaura Verratoa]

"A dajy."

That answer didn't pass muster, and Rosskarr could tell from the way Kuurrumaai looked at him. He squirmed a little as she probed the inflamed part.

"Thrree dajyss, alrrjight! jI changed mjy ssockss thrree tjimess a dajy. Thought jit'd go awajy."

The marine looked grimly at his foot, puffing up the problem in his mind beyond the worst case scenario. His tail switched between his legs, splashing across a puddle.

"jI jusst want jit to get betterr. Don't cut mjy fuckjing toe off, okajy? Kosa, thejy can fuckjing sshoot me, jI jusst don't wanna be mjisssjing nothjin, alrrjight?"

Untaaura watched the exchange for a moment from behind, then turned her attention back up the road. Still nothing. The unknown was starting to tapdance on her skull.

[Kuurrumaai Traahoya]

"jYeah well, jI don't rrealljy feel jin the mood to go cuttjing off bodjy parrtss, sso jyou'rre luckjy todajy."

Three days wasn't too bad; it wasn't great, but he'd not lose any digits this go-round. Still though, he'd been an idiot and not come to her at the first signs. If he had, he'd already be cured. As it stood now, he had at least a day of rear light duty along with regular kolto foot soaks.

Releasing his foot, Kuurrumaai swiveled her drab green shoulder bag so that it rested on a leg. flipping the clasps, she fished through its' contents for a small wrapped package of single-use kolto cream. It had trace amounts of bacta mixed in to help with quicker healing, but it was still going to mean that Rosskarr wouldn't be on front patrol until the meds knocked out his damn footrot. A day, maybe two if the infection had begun to travel too far.

The thin packet was slapped into his hand, then three more for good measure.

"Usse that, and keep jyourr foot clean. jYou don't do what jI ssajy, and jI'll have to call an evac to take jyou to one of the medjic chop posstss sso thejy can lop off whateverr jyou let rrot forr too long. Underrsstood?"

[Untaaura Verratoa]

She got no disagreement from Rosskarr, who nodded along emphatically.

"jYou got jit, ma'am."

He got helped to his feet, and frog-marched to one of the light duty speeder trucks moving gear they'd be using to set up forward deployment. All a day or two of light duty meant was that he wouldn't have to hump to forward base. He'd still have plenty of time in The Shit to get his fill.

Untaaura was waiting for Kuurrumaai to turn off the bedside manner game. She approached, putting a hand on her friend's shoulder.

"jItss been too long. jI'm gojing up frront to ssee what'ss gojing on. jYou comjing?"

[Kuurrumaai Traahoya]

The cover flap of her shoulder pack was flipped back shut, and Kuurrumaai snapped the clasps.

"jYeah."

Another shift, and the pack was hitched around so that it rested alongside her left hip. She didn't carry a rifle, but did have her standard issue blaster safely tucked within the confines of the holster on her belt. Sometimes when you were the medic, you had to make concessions; which suited her just fine. She preferred to carry the meds, salves, and bandages used to save lives - not the instrument of death used to make her job sometimes impossible.

"jIf jI have to jinsstjitute njightljy foot checkss, jI wjill."

The two moved up through the ranks, Kuurrumaai grumbling as they made the short trek.

"No one hass tjime forr monssoon rrot."

[Untaaura Verratoa]

Kuurrumaai always cut to the heart with a smart suggestion, and Untaaura rarely found cause to disagree. She nodded along as they pushed past a half dozen marines on their way to the head of the column.

"We don't have tjime forr a lot of thjingss, ljike sstajyjing put on thjiss pack rroad. Humpjing the djisstance doessn't help when we arre sstarrt and go half the tjime."

Ahead, the sounds of an argument could be heard, and Untaaura's ears perked. She pushed into Cresh company's section of line. It didn't take long to figure out the source of the hold-up. It wasn't a rock slide, an improvised explosive, or signs of enemy fortification ahead. It was a Grang Ox, standing in the middle of the road like he owned it, chewing its cud. The harness around its neck clearly showed it was domesticated, but that didn't seem to mean much. Three Marines were putting their backs into pulling at the leather strap. That only served to cause the ox to occasionally moo and to cause the marines to slip in the mud when they immediately lost the tug of war.

"Pull, damn jyou!" Cresh's first platoon's first sergeant graveled out the order as he paced the three-stride width of the roadway. He was a beast of a man, with a shaved head and a thick black beard that was developing a stripe of grey whiskers down the chin. Given the marine tendency to die young, it went as no surprise at all that the sergeant had developed and cultivated the nickname Greybeard as a totem of his uncanny ability to not die.

"jI want that forrda movjing! Ejitherr up the rroad orr down the hjill, and jI don't carre how!" Greybeard growled with a distinctive voice that sounded like he was permanently gargling rocks in his throat. He'd gotten that distinctive affect a few years earlier thanks to a less-than-perfect tracheotomy to liberate a piece of shrapnel that had clipped his throat. The beard at least covered up any trace of that grisly chapter.

"Wherre'ss jyourr Preita'rrou, Sserrgeant?" Untaaura stepped to the head of the line, which parted to let her and Kuurramaai through. Greybeard spun on a heel, fixing both officers with unsettling and unblinking ice-blue eyes.

"On commss back to Johuek, rrequesstjing ajirr rrecon. Sshe wantss to go arround thjiss pjiece of meat. Wasste of goddess-damned tjime."

[Kuurrumaai Traahoya]

Kuurrumaai gave a scowl as her blue eyes shifted from Greybeard, past Untaurra, and to the stubborn animal that seemed as determined to stay right where he was as the marines were in trying to remove him. Two forces, equally unwilling to budge a micron. Grang Ox were already known for their obstinate nature, and the disinterested look he was giving the marines as they attempted to dislodge and remove him was of the the highest order of cantankerous stares.

It reminded her sharply of Yuukaarri.

That old gelding had put her through enough hardships in his old age; she'd loved that old Orpak, but Goddess he'd been such an ornery bastard.

"jI don't thjink jyou lot arre gojing to have jit eassjy wjith thjis one," she couldn't help but mumble.

Of course, there were other thoughts that had begun to quickly rush in, and her ears twitched, ticking back just a slight bit as her eyes narrowed. She'd been here long enough to know that... dirty tricks... they were starting to become the norm here on Thalassia.

Though her eyes were on the ox, her voice shifted so that it was unmistakably addressing both Greybeard and Untaaura. The caution in her tone was thick.

"jI'd tell them to back off. Rrememberr what happened to Preita'rrou Irrhaathee's grroup lasst week."

[Untaaura Verratoa]

No one needed reminding. Improvised explosives on pack animals were a thing the fin-ears definitely weren't above. The mere mention of it was enough to cause Greybeard and the two marines at the reins to take several cautionary steps back. Untaaura, however, stood her ground. She clasped a hand over Kuuramaai's forearm.

"Hang on. Therre'ss no pack on that ox."

That at least dispelled the most acute threat. It didn't mean they were safe at all. The company was still stalled on a pack road, stuck in a vulnerable position. They needed to move and soon.

"jIf we sshoot the damn thjing, we sstjill have to rroll jitss carrcasss down the sslope, not to mentjion we gjive awajy ourr possjitjion."

Untaaura kept glancing back to Kuurramaai, and then back to the bit of pack road they could see beyond the ox, which snaked around the hill.

"jI'm gonna sscout the rroad ahead. We can't get the whole column arround, but one orr two sshould worrk."

Of course, that meant going far beyond the tip of the spear. Scouting up a pack road was a great way to gamble with your life.

"Therre'ss no forrk on the rroad." Greybeard pulled a map out from inside his armor's breastplate. He unfolded it, pressing the topographic grid against another marine's back. "What arre jyou lookjing forr?"

Untaaura glanced back to Kuuramaai. They'd hiked more mountains between the two of them than all of Besh company combined, most likely. Sometimes maps were wrong.

[Kuurrumaai Traahoya]

There was a certain... something... in Untaaura's eyes that really didn't need to be translated, and Kuurrumaai only gave a nod as she hitched her shoulder pack up a little higher. If Untaaura wanted to scout ahead, then that was what she would do, and that also usually meant that Kuurrumaai was right there beside her.

A last look to the ox, and she lifted a hand up to scratch at an unseen itch along her eyebrow.

She'd let Untaaura do the explaining. After all, unless she was donning her 'bedside manner voice', her tone was usually not as hard-edged as that of her diminutive friend.

[Untaaura Verratoa]

She was relieved to see Kuurramaai backing her play. Untaaura didn't want to ask, because it was a dangerous thing to ask. But she needed her help. The pair stepped lightly around the bend in the road, eyes peeled on the trees both near and far.

"jI'm not about to have them sshoot that ox. jI want anotherr ansswerr."

It was a strange conclusion to arrive at. She'd seen so much casual and indiscriminate killing, and Untaaura thought she'd developed a callous to it. But there was something wrong about what Greybeard was thinking. Worse, she couldn't put it to words. But Kuurramaai knew. You had to live on the mountain to know.

She paused, kneeling down in the muddy road to present a smaller profile in case there was a sniper out there somewhere.

"Kuurra, ssee that brreak jin the trreess? Rrjight about wherre the sslope sshallowss out? Doessn't that look ljike a grrazjing path?"

It wasn't just the gap in the trees. Nothing there spoke to the why of it. The ground didn't look rocky enough to break anything up. There wasn't any sign of recent timber falls. To top it off, the shaggy undergrowth that clung to the edge of the treelines elsewhere looked pointedly thin-to-nonexistant here. They'd led enough orpaks up and down alpine slopes to know the difference. At least that's how it went on Taltimant. Could Thalassia be that much different?

[Kuurrumaai Traahoya]

In turn, she knelt just behind Untaaura, squatting down into a smaller posture that would still allow her to spring up at a moment's notice. Her eyes followed the direction that her partner had indicated without the need of a pointed finger. It was a familiar sight that met her, and she let out a hmph.

There was any number of things that this could signal, and Kuurrumaai allowed her thoughts to race to the conclusions of each one. Some ended benignly enough, others... not so much. All things considered though, the break looked like just that - a break. It was something natural yet crafted all the same. It looked like many of the oft-used and unofficial 'paths' that the orpaks back home had made. And, well, those that looked after the animals as well. But still, the fact that she was staring at such a thing here, on Thalassia... it was like a fragrant whiff of home.

"You think there's more oxen past there?"

The '... or their minder?' didn't need to be said.

[Untaaura Verratoa]

"Onljy one wajy to fjind out." Untaaura practically breathed her words into silence. The two were close and quiet, betraying nothing. From here on, it was that, or nothing at all. The Preita'rrou raised her left hand with an open palm, tightened it into a fist, extended two fingers rotated clockwise, then bladed her hand forward with two curt chops. The message was clear and quiet. Keep close, and follow the path.

They remained in a low crouch until they reached the fork, boots and knees squelching in muddy gravel as they took the advance slow. Only when they reached the relative cover of the treeline did Untaaura rise into a half-crouch. She glanced back to Kuurra, easing the flat of her palm down, parallel to the ground. Keep in cover, hold position. They both knew the score here. Untaaura would advance, call Kuurra up, and they'd alternate until there was contact or anything of note. For now, there was only humid forest. The misting rain collected on leaves, plonking fat drops intermittently all around them. It was a double edged sword, in that it helped cover some of their own sound, but it also hid the Enemy if they were up the hill.

Untaaura took her time, crawling on her belly in places. She found a particularly thick tree, fifty meters up the trail, and posted behind it. Gesturing behind her, she made eye contact with Kuurra again. Raised hand. Fist. Two finger twirl, knife hand.

Her turn.

[Kuurrumaai Traahoya]

A grunt, and Kuurrumaai started her own slow motions forward, being mindful to take the exact footfalls that Untaaura had; if they were followed, it would do them no good to telegraph the footsteps of two people; best to make their opponents think there was only one of them. It was all training though, that made her think that way. Some things never left you, and the angrily-yelled lessons from Basic were like second nature.

Shimmying her way up to her partner then past, Kuurra made sure that her body stayed low, her motions slow and deliberate as she advanced. Whatever was ahead she had no idea, but Goddess be damned if she was going to let herself be surprised.

Her blaster was slowly pulled from its' holster, and she held it in a firm grip, barrel pointed slightly ahead and down. It wouldn't be but a flick of the wrist to bring it up to level, and while she was a medic, she also knew that sometimes that sort of thing didn't matter if it was you or the enemy.

A felled jaan oak lay crossways ahead of her, and she slowly made her way to the safety that it offered. Her forward progress halted as she pressed into the crumbling bark, and stealing a glance back to where Untaaura waited, she gave a curt nod before turning her eyes back forward.

[Untaaura Verratoa]

Before she broke cover, Untaaura stole a moment to tip down one of the broad rain-encumbered leaves of the tree she was against. She positioned her bottom lip just below, so that the small collected pool of water ran down the cleft and into her mouth. It was just enough of a drink to loosen up her tongue, which felt stuck to the roof of her mouth by the tense on-point advance. Carefully, she eased onto he belly, making the distance with knees and elbows towards a too-close crest of the hill. The muddy gravel crunched and squished under her movements, and the Preita'rrou sought out the still somewhat grassy fringes of the trail to crawl along. The moment she'd reached a patch of matted undergrowth, Untaaura froze in place. Her ears perked high on her head, pointed uphill even as she turned her head slightly back towards Kuurramaai. Hand signals again went through the motions.

Two fingers flicked on an ear tuft - Audible contact.

She paused, straining to pick up a sound.

A thumb dragged along her bottom lip - Voices.

Two fingers extended in a V, then covered by the other hand in a fist - Two contacts, stationary.

She then tapped a clenched fist twice against her chin - Forrda.

Whoever was beyond the crest, they weren't Cizeri. That didn't mean they were enemy, but it definitely was a sizeable probability.

Untaaura hand signaled for Kuura to make up the ground and approach just shy of the crest.

[Kuurrumaai Traahoya]

Kuura frowned, digesting the new information with a ponderous nod as she slowly lowered herself once more. Her body was a fluid thing, shifting forward with a whisper. She followed in Untaaura's pathway, lessening the distance between the two in slow, methodical order. So many worries and question, and each one tamped down by her training and the inner voice of their drill sergeant from Basic.

Worry when you're dead!

Only thing that matters to you is putting a blaster bolt between the eyes of your enemy!

You cry, you lose!

Your blaster is your only friend!

Ass and tail DOWN!

Every yelled mantra, every shouted order, every fingerjab to the chest was relived in lovely, silent detail as she pulled close to Untaaura. Her blaster was still held loosely, but the slight tensing of her fingers gave away her pounding heart and electric nerves.

[Untaaura Verratoa]

Only with Kuurra close enough so that her body lay directly parallel did Untaaura dare consider breaking silence. She barely whispered into her squadmate's ear, which hung over her own brow like a canopy.

"jI'll rrjisse overr the crresst to confjirrm vjissual."

It was dangerous, but it had to be done. She couldn't just order a fire mission because she heard voices over a hill. There had to be something more concrete.

"Get rreadjy forr coverr fjirre and to get the hell out of herre jif we have to."

Grim-faced, Untaaura glanced sidelong into Kuurra's face. Under the canopy and the rain, her eyes were big and softly cast back blue shimmer. She squeezed Kuurra's hand, then let go just as quickly. Untaaura pressed her helmet firmly down over her head, cinching her chinstrap. Maybe if she was the lucky kind of unlucky, the helmet might catch a lucky shot in such a way to keep her breathing. She wriggled up another half body length in the mud, letting her fingers sink into the rocky loam. Her breaths were quick and deep through her nose, and she grit her teeth.

No more waiting.

Untaaura pushed her palms into the ground, heaving herself the last few inches over the crest to peek above.

Two seconds later, she was safely back below. The adrenaline quickened her breath, and she gulped before shimmying close again.

"Fjin-headss have a heavjy rrepeaterr on the prromontorrjy. Thejy'll cut anjythjing to pjiecess that comess arround that sswitchback."

There was urgency to her whispering.

"One of uss hass to sspot, and the otherr hass to go down hjill and call the fjirre mjisssjion."