Our mettle is never truly tested... until it is.

  - Former Spec Ops UWO Major Fredrickson -

  There are no screams of terror, no cries of disbelief, just silent denial as every able-bodied soldier looks towards the red horizon. The large circular Gate looms ominously spinning with deep crimson. There are no moons on this world, no reprieve from the darkness that threatens to swallow us now. The only light that remains in defiance of the night does not offer safe harbor from it.

  Hope barely dares to rise in me as I breathe in slowly. The gate despite turning red has not sent out any creatures yet. Turning I look at the op commander, 1st Lieutenant Tenny. Her jaw is tight, the standard issue pad and pen on the ground at her feet. She blinks slowly, deliberately. Pushing her glasses firm against her face and tightening the neat bun of her hair before putting on her helmet.

  She turns her back to the Gate, facing the noncommissioned officers.

  “It has been an honor serving with you,” she looks at each of them, “An honor I intend to see continued.”

  Stances shift at her words, she’s implying we might have a chance.

  “Call a formation,” she says, pointing to the main courtyard area, “I will address the troops there.”

  “Formation! On me, Formation!” Sergeants begin yelling down the walls. Running in every direction.

  “Staff Sergeant Mwangi, we are going with your proposal, this position is not defensible against a…” she pauses, the weight of the sentence hitting her, she grits past the fear, resolve bubbling up, “Against a Red Gate.”

  “Ma’am,” Fourth Platoon Sergeant begins.

  “I don’t care about your fucking pissing contest with Mwangi, we are going to die if we don’t move,” she says.

  “That’s not it,” he says, flexing his jaw, “We don’t have enough Humvees to take everyone at once.”

  Her eyes blink, she looks back at the Gate, then back at him, the realization hitting her in the gut.

  “How many can we transport?”

  “Three quarters of our platoon maybe, if we pile them on top and have some on the front and the rear of the vehicle, some may fall and…” he pauses, looking up at the Red Gate then back to her, “What are your orders?”

  “Take who you can, pray that you get back in time for the rest of us.”

  “You’re not coming, ma’am?”

  “Not until everyone’s cleared.”

  “Formation is ready ma’am,” one of the sergeants says.

  Mwangi motions me to join the rest of the troops. I nod to him, taking one last good look at the Gate. Something’s coming soon, and whatever it is, we stand no chance against it. Traditional rifles are extremely ineffective on ninety percent of Red Gate entities. Even the 50 cals won’t be enough.

  As I bound down the stairs, my thoughts race, we weren’t equipped for a yellow gate, we are going to get wiped by a red one. There’s an air hanging over the formation, it’s hard to see everyone with the night swallowing the light. The Humvee lights wash the formation in light on both sides. I never did find my rucksack in the field, not that there was really time to look, though, suddenly I am feeling pretty dumb for not putting my night vision attachment on my helmet from the start. Maybe Tran brought an extra, or I can borrow one from someone else. Glowsticks and flashlights swing back and forth with the sounds of shifting rocks. It’s surprising how quiet everyone is keeping, scarcely a whisper.

  Where’s Cortez? I look around for her, Tran or Barlow, but before I can find any of them, I hear the Sergeants tell everyone to be quiet. Not that they needed to. It’s eerily quiet.

  “Alright,” Tenny says, stepping out on top of the wall, “I know most of you are scared, and you have every right to be.”

  Murmurs of agreement, then silence.

  “But I ask you, no, I order you, do not give up. We are soldiers, we train for these moments, this is not where we fall.”

  Someone is crying in the formation, I hear them fall to their knees. The guy next to me, his legs are shaking hard.

  “This will be a story you tell your children about, maybe even embellish too, but it is not where you die, not where we die,” she says, the anxiousness in her voice disappearing with each following word, she’s a born leader, you can’t teach that, “We’re going to change locations, not everyone will be able to go in the first grouping.”

  The silence breaks with defiant roars. Many voices yelling questions.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “Who gets to go?”

  “Who has to stay?”

  “Lock it up!” one of the sergeants yells.

  Silence falls again, but barely.

  “Fourth squad of Fourth Platoon, Off-worlders and the remainder of Third Platoon will stay,” Tenny says, a strained expression, “Once they deliver everyone, they will come back for you, I swear it.”

  “Oh hell no!” someone yells.

  “This is bullshit!” another screams.

  A gun fires into the ground, silence follows as Staff Sergeant Mwangi walks in front of the formation, smoke billowing from the muzzle of his rifle. A certifiable fuck around and find out look on his face.

  “I will be staying with you, in case the wave comes before then.” she says.

  There’s murmuring, but damn, I’m impressed at her resolve. Not many in her position would do that. What’s her class again? I think it’s a weird one, something to do with ice. Officers are usually strong, not strong enough to clear a red, but maybe strong enough to keep us alive until special operations or WHA elite show up.

  There’s shouting in the distance. Something about off-worlders stealing a Humvee.

  “The wave is here!” someone yells.

  All hell breaks loose.

  The formation breaks, everyone running to the Humvees disorganized, without any sense of thought to her orders. It’s first come, first serve, some of the Humvees start peeling out without being full. Shit. I look around, hoping to find Cortez, Tran and Barlow.

  Shots are fired, it doesn’t stop the panic until more are fired. A 50 cal rips an off-worlder in half almost. Everyone who isn’t supposed to be loading up suddenly thinks twice about jumping the line.

  “The wave has not started yet!” Tenny yells, a vein bulging from her forehead, “You will conduct yourselves like soldiers, not children!”

  Silence falls over the remaining crowd that’s going to get left behind.

  Tensions are high. But order is swiftly restored thanks to her. She starts talking about duty, reminding me about mine. Moving towards the mess of blood and guts from the nearly cut in half off-worlder, I know there’s nothing I can do for the guy on the ground. The old elven man Trevanius kneels next to him in the blood. The Fourth Platoon Medic Private First Class Trully, he clutches his belly looking at the scene. Turning and moving quick towards one of the last Humvees.

  Trevanius strokes the forehead of the man, cradling him in his final moments.

  “Go in peace child, feel the touch of the Great Mother upon your skin, let it soothe your soul in its passing,” Trevanius says.

  The guy who was cut nearly in half chokes up blood, but the words seem to give him peace. Trevanius pulls his eyelids closed after his eyes glass over.

  “This mission is cursed,” he sighs shaking his head, “Gate’s like this one cannot be defeated. I have seen it before.”

  His eyes look like they have a hundred years of regrets and baggage to unpack at that statement. A voice pulls me out of the gravity of his words.

  “Novak!” Cortez yells.

  A sigh of relief and fuzzy feeling booms in my chest. My feet move towards where her voice was, behind the crowd of soldiers. She grabs my hand pulling me through to her.

  “Barlow said he found a place that’s underground, he said it leads somewhere else, he thinks it’s our best shot,” she says, looking back at the chaos, “I’m not waiting for them to come back.”

  I pull back from her grip, “I can’t.”

  Looking around, I don’t see anyone else injured, somehow no ricochet injuries. No one screaming for a medic. Cortez pulls my face to look back at her, her eyes wide, angry, confused but most of all, scared.

  “Why?” she asks.

  “I’m the only medic left,” I say, pointing to the last Humvees that are driving off, “Fourth’s medic just left, and Third’s is still missing.”

  “A medic isn’t going to do shit against whatever is going to come out of the gates,” she says, grabbing me again, I pull away.

  She’s not wrong, I should go. But if I do, who will patch them up? Am I being stupid? I’m not a hero… I just don’t like to abandon people. It’s something my dad always drilled into me. Never abandon those in need, no matter the odds, always stand firm. Even if no one else will… especially when no one else will.

  “I can’t leave,” I say, she gives me a pleading look, so I add, “Yet.”

  She blinks at me, backing away while shaking her head.

  “Well, I’m not leaving without you,” she says adamantly, “This op is fucked, surely you see that.”

  “We don’t even know what’s coming yet,” I say, trying to muster resolve.

  “Novak! Cortez!” Mwangi yells.

  “We can still make it,” Cortez says quietly.

  I shake my head at her.

  “Hooah Sergeant,” I say, turning to Mwangi.

  “Where’s Tran and Barlow?”

  “Scouting a possible escape route in the main hall,” Cortez says, Mwangi gives her a look, so she continues, pausing for a couple gunshots, “Barlow thinks he found a passageway out of here.”

  Mwangi looks at me then back to Cortez, the gears spinning in his head.

  “I’ll let the LT know,” he stops, mulling his words, “If shit hits the fan, don’t stick around, live, that’s an order.”

  We nod and he leaves.

  “See?” Cortez says, tilting her head at me, “Even he thinks it’s hopeless.”

  “That’s not what he said,” I argue, though I don’t fully disagree with her, that’s the least inspiring I’ve ever seen him.

  “Medic!” someone yells, making me flinch, but it doesn’t sound like a cry for help.

  Moving towards the call, I push through a gaggle of left behind off-worlders in a prayer circle, Cortez right on my ass, almost like she’s afraid I’ll disappear if she loses sight of me. When I get to the person who called, it’s one of the Sergeants, he motions up to the battlement towards the command station.

  “This better not be about fucking paperwork,” I grumble as I take two steps at a time to get to the top, almost slipping on the last step.

  “Novak, good, you didn’t leave.” 1st Lieutenant Tenny says, giving me a nod.

  “Need something, ma’am?” I ask.

  “Just trying to hammer out logistics before the wave comes,” she begins, her nerves look frayed, eyes not even looking at me, fixed on the Gate, “We’re going to have casualties, there’s no way around it. You’re the only medical we have left since PFC Trulla abandoned post.”

  So, he wasn’t supposed to be on the Humvees, not that I blame him. Not really, as much as I want to. Still… shitbag.

  “I’ll do what I can,” I say, glancing at the red gate, the surface rippling, “But ma’am, I’m just the basic healer class, don’t expect miracles.”

  “Understood, I’m thinking for the aid station we can…” her mouth stops moving, half open.

  Cortez grips my hand, squeezing it. Seeing her expression, I don’t have to look to know. The wave, it’s time. Humvees just left less than fifteen minutes ago, on a paved road, they could make it in less than an hour there and back. There aren’t paved roads though. No telling how long it will take.

  “Wave inbound!” someone yells down the line.

  My eyes peel toward the gate, morbid curiosity getting the better of me.

  “Stay close to me Novak,” Tenny says, taking a deep breath.

  Looking out at the gate, my hand tightens in Cortez’s death grip. She hands me her binoculars. Looking through them, I see hundreds of black clad knights with flaming swords. Behind them is a skeletal monster larger than a Humvee. A lone black robed figure in the shape of a person rides its back. Its eyes move toward mine in the binoculars, glowing red eyes. A sinister smile made of ethereal light rolls in the shadow of its hood.

  “Fuck…” I whisper.