Spring of Sky

The rhythm of cannons and guns is a constant companion on Telis Prime, both ally and enemy to all who venture to the scrap covered planet. A world that is an entire junkyard, spotted with recycling centers, producing millions of tons of valuable materials every day, is often considered a strategic point of interest. The rat-tat-tat of Solar Empire G-32's, a bang from the NLR's Cannons, even the occasional whirring of a Gryphon's Crowglyf. The orchestra of death played to this worlds unwilling crowd with a fanatic joy.

Suicide was a commonplace on this front. Too many friends die, no sleep due to the roar of weapon fire, the ever-present sun blocking cloud of industrial fumes. Nothing grew on Telis, which meant food had to be shipped in, from space. The space that houses a daily genocide of sailors aboard the ships sent to hold the planet. Starvation, sickness, dehydration, all common on Telis.

The thick slurry of mud and runoff swamped around Slivers boots, immobilizing him. A grunt of frustration escaped his throat, fallowed by a curse as he dropped to the ground at the sound of bullets singing over the trench he occupied. The hail stopped in seconds, only to be responded to with the report of fire from the trenches. Sliver was still digging out his boot by the time the skirmish stopped. The gloves he wore were soaked, adding to his glum mood. He would have to wait for some time for new ones.

The line of troops was signaled to continue, causing the stallion behind Sliver to grab and wrench him out of the ground. A quick thanks, and the line began inching forward again. Sliver never expected this when he joined the Solar Empire Armed Forces, the posters at home showed the Centurions taking over entire planets just by landing on them, their enemy's will so frail they surrendered on sight. He knew better now, he had seen a Gryphon Berserker tear the limbs off his late platoon commander after taking a shotgun blast to the face. On Telis Prime, there was no rules in combat, only blood and pain.

Another burst of rifle fire caused the column to duck into the trench. A call to return fire sounded over Sliver, and he began to peak over the lip if the trench. The mussel flash was pointed away from him, towards the front of the line, and he could see the faceplate of a NLR Lunite. The metallic gloss reflected the bursts of the assault rifle. Sliver raised his standard issue G-32, a light semi-auto rifle, took aim, and held his breath. His finger moved to the trigger, but he paused.

He never shot any one before, let alone killed. He pondered on this until the sound of bullets came closer. He remembered he was in this war for a reason, to protect his family. The image of his little sister flashed before his eyes. Time slowed, and he heard a click, the click of the trigger. His finger seemed to have moved on its own, the flames already shooting out of the barrel. He felt his weapon jerk backwards, and the crack of the round leaving the barrel.

The Lunite began to slump over, their visor cracked. A small blue glow emanated from the helmet, slowly darkening. The line seemed to relax, knowing that they were no longer under fire. Hushed murmurings spread quickly, most on the topic of desertion if this happened again. Sliver tried to ignore it, but he had thought of it as well. He was tired, his once dark red hair now black and brown, his green eyes carried a weight of sadness, and his orange fur was ruffled and burnt. He raised his hand to his face, and looked at what he had done.

"Did I just kill?" he thought, the sight of the dead Lunite causing his stomach to churn.

He quickly bent over and emptied his stomach. He was immediately hit with a wall of regret and grief. His vision blurred, and he began to fall. He felt an arm wrap around his chest, catching him. Several seconds passed, and his sight restored. He looked up to see one of his squad stand him back up. It was Jaeger, the grizzled heavy weapons veteran. The look of sadness and understanding passed across his face, only to be quickly replaced by a smirk.

Jaeger's deep voice hit his ears like a tsunami, "You did well kid, nice shot".

Sliver quickly regained his balance, and nodded in response. The line was moving again, and sliver quickly saw they had taken a casualty. It was Rainy Sky, from first platoon, the mud already dragging him into the wasteland of trash and bones. He hated this place, even more than the NLR. This wasn't war, this was torture, pure and simple. He was going to get off this world, even if it meant death for desertion. No one was going to stop him.

Not even Celestia.