I wear this crown of thorns

Upon my liar's chair

Full of broken thoughts

I cannot repair

Beneath the stains of time

The feelings disappear

You are someone else

I am still right here

Johnny Cash - “Hurt”

“This is TNN, the Tetrarchy News Network.”

“Reports are still coming in regarding the Second Battle of Uzaunx, where Tetrarchy forces have liberated the planet. The Khonhim fleet was routed and expelled from Uzaunx space, where even now our brave soldiers are beginning the long and difficult task of rebuilding this ancient world’s structures. The road ahead is demanding, but they are more than up for the task.”

“The Khonhim forces are still very much a threat to the safety and security of our worlds, and Minister Singh is urging all citizens to contribute. More soldiers and pilots are needed to fight, we need more citizens to man the fabricators, so it is up to you to make a difference.”

“Saurotaur. Ophipteran. Ronin. Human. Four races, united to keep us free.”

“Every day brings us one day closer to Victory. Are you doing your part?”

PAIN

Nassat’s eyes fluttered open, as he struggled to make sense of what he was seeing. Every part of his body was in agony, and when he tried to sit up a wave of nausea slammed into him, dropping him back to the ground like a stone until it subsided.

He took a deep breath and tried again, moving slower this time, as he worked his way up to a kneeling position. The blast had ripped his helmet and weapon away, his vision still blurred as he began scanning the terrain around him.

He recognized none of it.

A shattered Ronin tank lay half-buried in the sand nearby, dead and silent. As he rose to his feet Nassat stumbled about in a circle, looking for survivors...but in that still moment nothing moved. Saurotaur and human bodies lay strewn across the landscape, scattered around the craters dotting their line of retreat. It was a holocaust, and for a moment Nassat feared he would go mad at the sight of the devastation that surrounded him.

Somehow his canteen had stayed with him, and pawing at his with trembling hands Nassat upended it and drank, washing the grit and blood from his mouth. Gradually the nausea and blurred vision began to subside, the pain drawing down to a dull throb as he began searching the nearest bodies for signs of life. But everyone he examined was far beyond any help he could provide, so he sank to his knees once more…and began reciting the Prayer for the Dead. It was normally done individually, but there were so many dead. One prayer would have to suffice for them all. He hoped the Creator would understand, and forgive him.

“...Nassat...” he heard, a whisper above the wind, so faint that at first he thought he was imagining it. But as he opened his eyes and looked around one corpse was struggling to move, and as he went to their side he realized with a start it was Sergeant Lin himself.

“Sergeant,” he said in amazement, “are you all right?”

But as the words were passing his lips, he realized the stupidity of the question. Lin’s lower extremities were shattered, with flecks of blood being coughed out with every breath.

“...no...” Lin got out, “...not all right at all.” He started coughing again, and Nassat held up his head as he pressed the canteen to his lips. The sergeant drank deeply, sighing in relief as he nodded his thanks. “Sitrep,” he demanded, as Nassat grimaced.

“I do not know, Sergeant,” Nassat replied. “I have found no other survivors. Perhaps they ran off.”

“Probably,” Lin nodded. He winced in pain as he tried to move, looking down at his legs. “Not going anywhere on those, am I?” he asked, in a poor attempt at humor.

“No, Sergeant,” Nassat agreed. “You require medical attention.”

“Yeah...figured as much,” Lin groaned. “All right...first things first. See if you can find a helmet with a working radio. Maybe someone can come get us.”

“Yes Sergeant,” Nassat answered, grateful to have something to do. He took a moment to brace a pack behind him, allowing the human to sit up, before going off to search the bodies. Most had lost their helmets as he had, but the few that still had them strapped on were now inoperable. It seemed there would be no rescue.

He returned to Lin to report his findings. “Blast must have knocked out the electronics,” the sergeant said. Another coughing fit wracked his body, as Nassat grew alarmed at his condition. “Only one thing we can do, Nassat.”

“What is that, Sergeant?” he asked.

Lin closed his eyes. “You need to go get help.”

Nassat just stared at him for a moment, before shaking his head. “You will not survive without immediate attention, Sergeant. I will not leave you here to die...not without trying first to get you to safety.”

Lin barked out a sardonic laugh that became a coughing fit. “And just how do you propose to do that?”

An excellent question, Nassat thought to himself. Just how would he get Sergeant Lin someplace safe?

The answer was obvious. “I will carry you, Sergeant,” he said.

Lin gave him a dubious look. “Corporal...it’s a long way to friendly lines.”

Nassat shrugged. “What other choice do we have?” he asked.

The sergeant closed his eyes. “I’m going to lie here and rest. Do what you gotta do.”

Easier said than done. Had it been a fellow Saurotaur it would have been impossible, but Nassat was certain he could transport a human’s weight. But before he did anything else, he needed to immobilize the human’s legs. It didn’t take long to scavenge enough belts to bind his legs together, and despite the incredible pain he had to be feeling Sergeant Lin bore the discomfort well, far more than he would have, had their situations been reversed.

Now, how to transport him? The few options that came to mind would exacerbate his injuries, or risk him falling off. If there were another Saurotaur to assist they could rig a litter to carry him, but by himself that was not an option. He cast about, looking for inspiration...when he spied the Ronin tank. The blast had torn away several pieces, and when he located two straight pieces of piping a radical idea occurred to him. It took more scrounging to find enough cloth and cord to construct the strange device, yet after a few tests the idea seemed sound. It would be a bumpy ride for the sergeant...but it was far better than the alternative.

Nassat dragged the contraption over to where Lin lay resting. “Sergeant?” he asked, touching his shoulder. “It is time,” he told him, as the human opened his eyes, stared in surprise at the device Nassat had constructed.

“A travois?” he said in surprise. “I wasn’t aware your people used anything so primitive.”

Nassat blinked. “It has a name?”

Lin chuckled. “It does. Humans used something very like it, a long time ago...and for the same reason.” It took some careful maneuvering between the two of them to get Lin situated, but once he was ready Nassat wrapped the harness across his hips and shoulders and began to pull.

It was far more difficult than it looked, and the jury-rigged device required constant attention. It seemed to fall apart with almost depressing regularity, and each time Sergeant Lin fought to keep from screaming in pain when a pole hit a bump. It didn’t take long before he was straining from the effort, the straps digging into his flesh, in danger from overheating. There were more stops to rehydrate, though they had recovered enough water to make the journey possible.

But in the end, it was placing one hoof in front of the other...over and over again.

“...what were you doing?” Lin asked him, without warning.

“What was I doing when?” Nassat responded, unsure what the human was referring to, as he strained at the ropes.

“When I came to,” Lin replied. “You were kneeling and mumbling something.”

“Oh,” the young corporal replied, now self-conscious, “...I was reciting the Prayer for the Dead.” He bowed his head, and mumbled, “I should have been focusing on my duties, Sergeant. I am sorry.”

Lin was silent for a long time. “You were a priest, right? Before,” he said at last.

The term was incorrect, but it's meaning clear enough. “Yes, Sergeant, I was.”

There was another period of silence, as Nassat struggled with his burden, before Lin responded.

“...everyone should have words said over them,” he said at last. “I’d hope you’d do the same for me. When the time comes.”

Nassat froze in his tracks. He craned his neck around to look at Lin...who to his surprise was returning his gaze.

“It would be my honor,” Nassat whispered.

He turned away, taking up his burden once more, unsure what to make of what had just transpired between the two of them. He had once lived in terror of this human, only to discover he was far more than he had seemed. Nassat had grown to respect the man who had tried to teach him and the others the ways of War, but there had still been the knowledge that he was the Other, someone not of his tribe. One whose ways and beliefs would be forever foreign, and inscrutable.

So, what did that make him now?

Nassat had long since lost track of time. There was only the trek, the unceasing agony of his body as it cried out in protest. The only thought left in his fevered brain was to keep moving forward, to not stop. Left hoof. Right hoof. Left hoof. A lifetime of marching, that was all he could recall, during those rare moments when he even tried. He would stumble, fall to his knees, struggle to rise once more, and lurch forward yet again. Crusted blood coated the straps that had sawed their way into his flesh, and yet he refused to stop.

Just a few more steps. Just one more. And then another.

He was so far gone that he didn’t see the rescue party approaching. Didn’t hear Raichret’s sobs of relief.

Didn’t feel her arms easing him down, as he lost consciousness. Or the ambulance carrying them back to the Medical tent.

Just that finally...he could rest.