The pain in my head was still there. I was on my back, on what I didn't know, but I was inside a red tent, barely able to see the outline of a black flame on the outside. So we won. I lied back, still aghast I was still alive. I shouldn't have survived that. This was the second time in less than a year that I've said that. The first time was the battle in Citadel and now this. How do I keep on surviving when everybody else behind me keeps on dying? I wear their armor, but I'm still a survivor above all. I wasn't quick to forget the lessons of Survival I learned in Citadel. I knew how to survive, and I wouldn't be brought down by those around me who didn't. I was a survivor.
I heard the flaps to the tent rise and saw a figure I didn't recognize walk inside, but I could see his ornamented armor. He was a commander of sorts. If it was Zahckrael, then I was really was screwed. But then again, so was Zor'ak which made me feel a bit better.
Then I remembered Zurang. I shot up in a sitting position on whatever I was lying on, sending a number of metal items to the ground next to me as I reached for my belt, fumbling for Zurang's dagger. Damn it, where was it?
"Looking for this?" a voice said, and I looked up. It was a young man, a hair bun held together by a Fire Nation insignia and long sideburns. I recognized him. He was the same man who saved my life yesterday. And that hair ornament, he was, the crowned prince. I attempted to kneel, but remembered I was already on my back, and ended up tumbling off of the cot I had been lying on, falling to the ground. As I attempted to rise, I saw a hand offered in front of me, and took it. I was momentarily pulled up face to face with the man. He chuckled and said, "For somebody who 'swears loyalty to know man and know nation', you seem ready to kneel at a moment's notice."
"What are you talking about?" I asked, a knot forming in my stomach, wondering if all of my thoughts had even been in my head. I sat down on the cot and awaited an answer, trying to ignore the throbbing in my head.
"The nurses told me you talked in your sleep."
"Sleep? How long was I out?"
"Just a day and a night. It's the day after. We won, and you survived despite the tank sticking out of your head."
The tank sticking out of my head? "The what?"
"You mean you didn't notice the shrapnel sticking out of your head during the entirety of the battle? Didn't stop to wonder why every man you encountered on that field had a mortified look about them as though they were facing Vaatu?"
"I just thought I was that intimidating."
"Oh believe me. You were" he said as he picked up the medical equipment that had fallen to the ground. I looked to the tray he was moving the equipment back onto, stained in blood, and saw a shard of metal, completely bloody on almost half of it. "I saw your handiwork." He continued. "You killed a man with a glove, one with a helmet, and more than a fair share with this knife of yours. Nice blade. I believe it belongs to you." He said, grabbing it by the blade, offering me the hilt."
I accepted the knife a looked at the blade, the carving of the roaring dragon still present. I sheaved the knife in my belt and allowed myself to finally relax. "Thanks, but its not mine. It belonged to a buddy of mine."
"He died?"
I nodded. He was blown out of existence. Just like that. In the snap of a finger. One second, he was there, looking through that tank and the next, he was just a memory. The tank. "So what's this about the tank sticking out of my head?"
"Well. You apparently went through that entire battle with shrapnel lodged in your skull. It only went a few millimeters deep, not breaching it, but it left quite the mark. Your lucky it was so easy to pull out and it didn't go any deeper or you'd be a goner. It was an open fracture, but the surgeons managed to pull the shrapnel out and close the wound. They said you got lucky and at worst, you'll only experience periodic head pain, swelling, nausea, and blurry vision."
"Really? Well, I don't feel that lucky."
"You should. Your company. Well. I'm sorry to tell you, but you were one of the only survivors."
I looked up to him, waiting for him to elaborate, but he was giving me time to come to terms. I didn't need time. I needed answers. "How many?"
"Of the 107th Company, only 37. Of the 31st platoon, only 6. You are 2 others were from Citadel. I checked your files and thought you may want to know."
"Checked my files?"
"Communication has been restored with the 5th Corps' camp. The silence is over. The siege can officially begin."
"What more have you heard from our camp?"
"Zor'ak is being court martialed for insubordination."
"Good."
"Don't get too relieved. It's likely just a formality. Commanders are in high demand right now and good ones aren't just lying around."
"I should know. One of them sent me into that shit-show."
"I heard. Unauthorized engagement with the enemy. Quite the offense."
"For the officer who sent us."
"And the soldiers who went." Lu Ten sat down on a chair in then tent, indicating we still had much to talk about. "If more of you had survived, this wouldn't happen, but with only 37 survivors. They'll trial every last one of you. I know Zahckrael's style. He wants to think he's in control and the slightest hint of insubordination will send him off. This is just that. He'll do whatever he can to proclaim his authority. Zor'ak may live, but his underlings won't, including you."
"Me?"
"Yes. It comes down to numbers. Zahckrael can't kill his second in command, but he can kill everybody else. The numbers will balance out and killing even grunts may hold the same impact as killing a commander without the same negative impact on the command structure."
"But after a disaster like that, he can't keep Zor'ak in such a place of power!" I protested.
"He will. He'll be more closely monitored of course, and the loyalty of the men will no longer belong to Zor'ak, but it won't belong to Zahckrael either. That's where he's making a mistake. In killing the 107th, the 22nd Infantry will see a sharp decline in morale. There'll be deserters and mutinies if he isn't careful."
"So do something."
"What can I do? I'm a lower rank than him."
"You're the son of the prince."
He sighed and leaned back in his chair. "I've been thinking about that. I think I have a way I can save what's left of the 107th and prevent a revolt in the 5th Corps' ranks."
"How?"
"Over three quarters of the 107th ahs been eliminated meaning it can no longer be officially considered a Company by Military Organization standards. The men are disorganized. As I am a of a superior rank to your company's captain, I have full authority to incorporate them into the Crimson Company to replace soldiers I've lost considering we fought on the same battlefield and I was the commanding officer of the battle."
"You'll do that?"
"I will. Our armies just got in touch with each other after months of disorganization and I'm not going to allow a mutiny to stop this siege. We've waited long enough."
"When will it become official?"
"When I send the hawk to Lieutenant General Zahckrael in a few minutes."
"Won't he object?"
He stood up and went for the exit. "He will. It won't matter. Oh. And there's someone outside who wants to see you. Welcome to the Crimson Battalion."
And with that he left, having said his last words at the flap of the tent.
Somebody wanted to talk to me. And not a second later, the tent flaps opened and in came Luke. I knew you were alive. I stood up from where I was sitting on my cot and ran up to hug him. I never realize how tall he was getting. He was two years the younger yet only a few inches shorter. We separated, and I had to look at his face again to see it was really him. "I knew you were alive."
"You thought I was dead?"
"The 22nd always did pray for the failure of the 15th. Don't have to worry about that anymore, though."
"So Lu Ten told you? About the Crimson Battalion?"
I chuckled, now letting the reality of the situation take hold. I was finally getting away from the idiots in charge of the 22nd. "He did."
"So what do you think?"
"I'm finally getting away from those idiots in charge of the 22nd, that's what I think."
"Well, hey. Congrats. Did he give you the same offer?"
"He did, but I refused."
"What? Why?"
"I talked it over with the others in my crew and they're staying in the 15th, so I am too. I got a promotion instead of a reassignment."
I laughed. "He would have given you both."
"Yeah. Probably, but I'm happy being a Sergeant."
"You got promoted to Sergeant!?"
"Yeah, but hey. You're being given a squad in the new 31st platoon. Didn't Lu Ten tell you that part?"
A squad!? "No! Are you kidding me?!"
"Nope. Congratulations, Staff Sergeant." He said, saluting me. "Guess you still outrank me."
I chuckled at that, remembering my first promotion to Private First Class back in Citadel for organization reasons only, back when Aden was still around to salute too. I put the thought away. "I always will."
I thought back to the one who put me there. Lu Ten. "So what do you think about him?"
"Lu Ten?"
"Yeah."
"I like him. He gives me the impression of a real soldier. One who cares about his men, but still strives for victory over all."
"A true soldier." I echoed. "Been wondering what that really means lately."
"Me too. I did some bad things back on that field, but Lu Ten talked to me. He made me realize that this is a war after all and war isn't pretty. We're soldiers. We don't get a lot in our station in life. We get orders, incompetent superiors, battle scars, nice one, speaking of which" he said, pointing to my head and the remnant of the injury I still had yet to observe. "But we do have one thing that we can never lose." He continued. "Our brothers. This is still Citadel, I realized. We still have somebody above us using us to meet his own goals and this still is a war for survival, but we're still the Hornets. Our goal is to serve and survive to serve some more. We're soldiers. We've always been. Right, Danev?"
I looked at the shard of shrapnel on the blood-stained tray on the night stand next to my medical cot. I've already given a piece of myself to this war. I wasn't going to let it go to waste. I looked at Luke, and smiled, thinking of the effort that went into that entire speech of his. He must've been told about my dream talk. Well, I wouldn't give him reason to worry. I grabbed his right hand and raised it to chest level between us. "Soldiers." I repeated. "Brothers."