A story of sparks

[Coalf]

"Not cold," and a laugh.

This had repeated a few times now and the tension around the warm, burning barrel was starting to shift into silent but ever-present hostility.

I could feel it, Nikita could feel it, hell everyone who was there could feel it, except Maly.

Iliy Schovaj or Maly as everyone called him was here before any of us. The sole survivor of the doomed battalion was a good seven point five foot tall Zhan with charcoal black fur, even in his uniform he stood out like a sore thumb in the snow; and so for quite a while, it was a mystery how Maly survived.

Until he opened his mouth and we realized, he was an idiot. Well, not an idiot but a complete, stark raving and insane simpleton; or a retard as Nikita put it.

However unlike everyone else I was not worried about his simpleness, no, I was worried about his luck, chiefly the fact he lived and 250 other Tajara did not.

As I stood by the barrel, my ears twitching at his every malformed laugh I thought to myself: What a mistake it was, what a mistake it was indeed that I entertained him, that I shielded him, that I spoke to him hoping some luck would perhaps rub off on me. Now I have a dog on my heel at all times.

"SHUT UP ALREADY!" My thoughts were interrupted as Nikita yelled out, Maly shut his mouth, his farwa-like face contorted into a sad grimace before he turned away and sped off into the transporter.

The tension died down with audible breaths of relief; however, it soon resurfaced as others realized something about our orders, the orders to prepare for mobilization, the orders which unlike everyone else I remembered and which kept me restrained from snapping at Maly.

"Should have shut your mouth yourself", a small M’sai piped up, unaware of the irony present in his own words.

I sighed as all eyes turned to me and followed Maly's footsteps away from the campfire, as I was the only one in the camp capable of calming him down; calming him down and perhaps managing to convince him to get out of the transporter and into the proper truck. Even considering the extent to which everyone hated Maly, nobody actually DARED to even look at him when he was in his desperate, angry state; in his bad place as he called it.

I knocked on the metallic monster in which he was hiding, not out of courtesy, of course, but simply to not spook the simpleton as I dreaded the idea of having my face pummeled with his enormous fist.

He sat there in the fetal position, clutching his Borek: his service tool, his coping mechanism, the one thing which he received upon signing up, its' steel mechanisms rusted and deprecated, yet loved; and perhaps it was only loved that kept his firearm going, as it should have gone out of service years ago.

He looked at me, I looked at him. He grimaced, I grimaced. I was wondering what to say, and especially how to say it so I don't offend him or disturb him.

Then I woke up on the ground, my ears were ringing and for a second I thought my face had been discombobulated by Maly's massive hand, yet the only pain I felt was all over my back; not my muzzle.

I turned my head in the snow and slowly observed the crater where the burning barrel and my comrades should have been. My eyes found them eventually, strewn all across the snow except Nikita; who had just impacted with the ground.

It took me some time before I realized I wasn't breathing, and that my ear was bleeding.

The former came when I attempted to scream and found myself lacking in air and strength, the latter in the fact that I saw my left ear a few feet away.

I flipped onto my stomach and using all the strength I could muster, I lifted myself onto my elbows.

My legs started to move, reflexes taught and learned since infancy had kicked in and I was surprised at the momentum I managed to pick up, which resulted in me barreling muzzle-first into the snow. My balance was off, and I started to feel a stinging pain creep up my spine from the base of my tail; or at least the stump of my tail, as I discovered after the whole ordeal.

I got on my elbows again and a paw, a bare, snow white paw suddenly pushed at my face. It kicked me back violently and I fell on my back, the pain from my stumped tail shot up into my head. I opened my mouth to scream, yet I couldn't; the sight in front of me was much more terrifying than anything happening around me.

I think she was part of the Adhomai Liberation Army, her muzzle was thin and clearly starved yet her fur was white and glistening free of any dirt or grime. The white hooded poncho made her near invisible even as she stood there yet, yet there were those green eyes that ran my mind through the visions of S’rrendar I have seen in the church windows, in those colored glass panels or whatever they call them, stained glass yes that's what it was, stained glass, yet she wasn't stained but beautiful nonetheless.

I flashed back to reality as two more came up from the left, three from the right, five, six, sixteen.

All of us, all of us defeated by less than twenty rebels. I would have laughed had I realized it right there, but I was too busy shitting my pants to think at the time. The barrel of her gun stared into my eyes and I stared back at it, or I tried until I looked back at her, into her eyes, those beautiful green eyes.

Then she burst into flames.

In an instant her entire body was consumed in bright yellow and red flames, a gargled scream escaped her mouth and the cacophony of sounds and shrieks began again but this time, this time I didn’t cover my ears, it was useless. I was used to the sounds, the sounds of screaming and pain. A harsh heat washed over my face as the smell of burnt fur and flesh overcame me and I couldn't help it. I licked my muzzle. I actually did! I was in the middle of Raskara’s land in what humans called hell; with fire and brimstone, and I only licked my face at the smell of flesh as my stomach churned and moaned.

Sixteen charred bodies surrounded me and I looked at my previous captor, she had turned from white to crackled dark, her eyes were glazed over and had I not seen her kick me in the face I would have doubted she was alive in the first place.

Then I felt pressure on my shoulder as I was lifted. Maly. Maly was standing above me, with Borek, Borek the Flame Spitter Mark IV, the flamethrower. The device which I had cursed so many times would kill us all in a fiery explosion due to a lack of maintenance and the frequent leaking of the fuels.

I took a deep breath through my teeth, he saved me, him and his device of doom.

I looked at Maly and I understood why he always seemed to survive, it seemed everyone was right. There was no living soul inside that body.

Only a device for killing and in his eyes a spark.

 

Wow writing something about Tajara, what a brave and noble statement from you Coalf.

Again, critique welcome and I'd like to extend thanks to ParadoxSpace who was kind enough to actually check over my grammar this time so it shouldn't be such garbage.

Also, wowie internal hastened monologues are fun to write, it's basically like ranting but you're ranting for someone else and not yourself also listen to I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream, Harlan Ellison did an awesome job with the dramatic reading and it inspired the writing style of this story.

[Bauser]

It was a very visceral read. I might accuse it of being edgy for its own sake if a gritty and sobering account of Tajaran war wasn't specifically lacking so far and necessary for their canon. But I suppose the knot it leaves in my stomach just means it was effective at what it set about doing. I enjoyed the sensory account of that concussed and confused feeling. It was a lot like that scene from Breaking Bad, and that's about the highest compliment I know how to give.

As an aside, I'm unfortunately sure you've satisfied many people's desire for burning dozens of furries with a flamethrower.

[Coalf]

Thank you very much, that is exactly the kind of emotion I was going for.

[Hendricks]

This was a really cool read, the vibe of the whole thing was amazing, the kind of dread of actually picturing how cold it is was really cool, I was expecting some drama from the group but that subsided into confusion and panic, they was it was written made it perfect for leaving the reader feeling a bit dazzled as well, at least for me. I've never pictured Tajaran warfare so brutal but it kind of makes me think twice, all in all great read!

[Coalf]

Oh wow, thanks, guys.

Actually, this is about my only story here that I wouldn't change thematically looking back at it, just repair it grammatically, which I think I'll do right now actually.

But thanks, means a lot.