Chapter Text
Eight hundred days. Velohtmiyr had been surrounded for eight hundred days; food was running low, and the number of dead, wounded and weak were piling up by the day. Elihksyii looked out into the distance from the upper levels of the mauled living bloc he and his squad had been occupying since their arrival to the city. The eye-straining whiteness of the blizzard-beaten countryside stretched for miles, pockmarked and striped with soot-colored earthen scars which betrayed the presence of the ongoing war. A war which had been ongoing long before he was even born.
The youngish Zvehrro’lyyud growled and muttered to himself, asking himself why he had even joined Pryzhiina in the first place. As far as he could understand, the only things the cause had brought him were death and suffering, and all for what? The uncertain promise of freedom? A so-called “people’s government”? Abstract ideas like “equality” and “unity”? None of those things seemed to really be helping him and his unit in the present. You can’t stave off hunger with ideas or promises. A people’s government means nothing if the people cannot feed or help themselves. At least that was what went through Elihksyii’s mind as he hunched and sulked by the blown-out window.
A few feet from him stood his squad leader, a rather burly Zvehrro of incredible bulk who went by the name of “Gahl’anyii”; Elihksyii never knew what their real name was, nor did it really concern him all that much. He just did whatever Gahl’anyii ordered him to do. He was beginning to regret doing so, so far as he was concerned.
Right now though, Gahl’anyii was not ordering Elihksyii to do anything, to which the latter seemed at least grateful of. Beyond that however, doubt and resentment were at the forefront of his mind, as well as wondering if he was going to have to go without food for yet another day (he could not count how many have passed already, only that it has been several days too many).
Resentful or not, however, Elihksyii withheld his tongue for now. Though he certainly had much to complain about, he did not want to be seen as “soft” in the eyes of his comrades. Especially when everyone else was suffering the same as he was, starving and deprived of much rest if any. The semi-constant shelling of the city by the enemy often was the reason for the latter.
And speaking of such, the distant rumble of cannon began to fill the once-silent air. Everyone, combatant or civilian, knew exactly what the thunderous chorus meant and precluded. A distant but clear voice further up near the outskirts of Velohtmiyr would reinforce this belief:
“The bastards are trying for another push!”
Soon the quietness of the besieged city was replaced with the shrieking and howling of inbound shells and rockets, an explosive rain of steel and fire. As if driven by their base instincts, Elihksyii and his fellow squadmates braced themselves for the inevitable; it did not matter where one was when they were on the receiving end of a siege, as everyone got a generous serving of saturated shelling.
As the preparatory barrage was taking place further up the front, one of Elihksyii’s comrades finally broke the silence among them.
“Is this the eighth time they have tried, or the ninth?”
“Does it matter to keep count?” Asked another member, their voice having more of a guttural growl to it than the first one.
“It does if we make the soft-bellied louts look like even bigger fools,” replied the first, to which a few of the unit’s other members gave a stifled chuckle; Elihksyii was certain he heard his own voice among the amused. A third voice chimed in, concurring with the first.
“Those Impyyhr suckups deserve what we give them…”
Nobody among Elihksyii’s group had anything good to say about the Impyyhr. Even Elihksyii himself could admit to harboring some resentment towards the regime and its ways. Of course, it wasn’t like the Impyyhr itself cared for or about the opinions of its lesser subjects. You didn’t matter to the Impyyhr unless you belonged to an important house or lineage.
Elihksyii’s group continued to carry on the banter for several more minutes, mostly speaking ill of the Impyyhr. On occasion there would be a few moments of reminiscing on some of the victories Pryzhiina had gained, most of which were taking place on other parts of the planet. Some of the battles mentioned were rather unfamiliar to Elihksyii himself; most of what he knew about the rebellion was mostly on the localized level. Bluntly speaking, he was merely an initiate to the cause.
The conversation was eventually cut short as the barrage started to make its way to their sector. The earthy crunching and crumping of shells and rockets slamming into rock and rubble grew louder and sharper as the artillery fire drew nearer. Time to hunker down.
Time started stretching out as the barrage finally fell down onto Elihksyii’s unit (or rather, the sector with which his unit was stationed). The building shook and shuddered beneath his feet as each explosive projectile came crashing down. There were a few close calls too, as one particular shell slammed into one of the upper levels just a few floors above him; everyone expected the ceiling to give way right then and there but it didn’t, suggesting nothing of structural vitality was hit.
As lucky as he and his comrades were, Elihksyii still felt like he was in the middle of a nightmare. His synapses were ringing, his eyes felt strained and aching, and his body was shivering not from cold but from fear as the world rocked beneath his feet and the noise of fire and thunder overwhelmed his hearing.
Even as the seemingly endless bombardment continued its fury, Elihksyii could faintly hear the sounds of gunfire near the outskirts of the city, where the front was currently situated. For how long the gunfire had been going and whether it was getting closer were something he couldn’t really know, but the fact he could hear it through all the other infernal noise was irrefutable. Yes, the Impyyrhials were attempting another push.
And just as it had made its way deeper into the rebel positions, the barrage gradually died down, leaving just the stuttered buzzing of machine guns and distant bellows of cannons to fill the air. The machine guns could have come from either side, as the rebels had by this point amassed a sizeable stockpile of heavy weapons.The cannons on the other hand…
“Shit, they have armor,” muttered one of the squadmates, a stocky Zvehrro by the name of Lehvkyyn. Lehvkyyn was one of very few rebels that Elihksyii knew, the two of them having at least some sort of history between each other. He was also the one who convinced Elihksyii to join Pryzhiina.
“Maybe it’s just field cannon. I don’t hear engines, not yet anyway,” replied another of the squad’s members, the guttural growling one specifically. Lehvkyyn shook his head.
“No. Too much work to take cannon to the frontline. Also not very effective way to attack, since all there is is flimsy shield to protect crew.”
“Hm, then perhaps it is one of the machines that walks? An assault engine?” Asked the guttural one. Lehvkyyn only shrugged.
“Legs, tracks, wheels, they all are the same. Armored, big gun, very dangerous.”
The rest of the squad nodded in response to the blunt but honest truth. Whatever was up there making the bellowing booming was definitely not a good thing if it was fighting on the side of the Impyyhr.
While the chatter picked back up and the ambience of the frontline continued like static noise, Elihksyii decided to make himself look busy and began cleaning his rifle. Even though it wasn’t really dirty, it helped to get used to the routine of such things, just in case. Not only that, it gave him an excuse to keep quiet. He did not trust his tongue enough at the moment.
Time continued to drag its feet as the fighting further out kept up, the only difference now being an increase in rifle and machine gun fire. That was normal, or at least that’s what Elihksyii thought to himself as he sat in the room with his squad. He was getting bored, sitting in this room. So were the rest of his squadmates. As much as he himself hated to admit it, he would’ve much preferred going back out to the outskirts. At least I would have a reason to clean my gun afterwards, he thought to himself.
As if some higher fate had read his mind, a voice presumably belonging to a fellow rebel came from outside the room, most likely the stairwell itself judging by the slight reverb.
“Troop number six, get your gear! The front needs some more warm bodies!” the voice called out, to which Elihksyii’s squad leader replied back with a grunt, before turning his attention to the rest of the unit.
“It looks like it’s our turn once again. You all know what to do, yes?” Gahl’anyii said, his voice deep and hard, the voice of someone who has seen the front many, many times by now. Elihksyii and the others nodded in turn, readying themselves for another long haul of holding the enemy at bay. Gahl’anyii gave an approving grunt.
“Then let’s get moving. If we’re fast enough, maybe we’ll get some fighting done ourselves today.”
After Gahl’anyii stopped speaking and made his way out of the room, so did the rest of the unit, taking their guns and whatever else they had brought with them before being posted here. Elihksyii fell in with the ranks, his resentment still there but no longer aimed at the cause; instead, all of it was aimed straight at the Impyyhr and anyone who sided with them. Though he may not have cared much to be here in the first place, he would be damned if he was going to let the enemy take everything away from him. He would make sure of it.