648 - Emotional Trauma (Patreon)

Protectorate / Iron Kingdom Border

Blue green camoed Marines clad in battle armour patrolled the perimeter of the Old Ugly as teams of crewmembers worked pumps and hoses, refilling the water tanks of the airship. Others moved carts of chopped wood onboard via the side ramp and a bunch of goblins were fussing over an exposed innard of an engine. Blake watched all these from the cooling sanctuary of the bridge viewports. Despite being nighttime, summer has arrived and the parties working out there were sweating in their work fatigues in the warm night air.

"Sir?" He turned his attention away from the viewports and spotted Trism with an anxious expression on his face. "We are getting some information from Beholder One Two and... it is not good news..."

Blake's face changed as Beholder was the general callsign for the surveillance wing ship assigned over the special operations operatives as support and communications. The V - 1 Vector wing ship serving as a relay was the sole means of communications between the 101st ATI on the ground and with Operational Command as they still lacked a satellite communication relay system.

"At an hour ago, Claymore One of the 101st has engaged with the local Protectorate forces at Site Gamma," Trism reported. "The Princess has been located, but her situation was not good, hence the local commander of the 101st has broken cover and is now currently extracting her out."

"Why now at all times?" Blake hissed angrily. "How long more before we complete resupply?"

"At least an hour more," Trism replied. "But Sir, even if we hurry off immediately at full speed, it would still take us at least 48 hours before we reach the AO."

"What reinforcements do we have near Site Gamma?" Blake asked as he slumped down on his chair, lines of worry visible under the lamplight.

At the moment, we have two Vector wing ships en route for support," Trism said. "But if we start dropping troops into Protectorate territory... We might rattle the entire nest..."

"Fuck them..." Blake growled. "Send in everything we got!"

"Get them out safe at all costs!"

-----

The Protectorate, Site Gamma

"Clear!" The 101st operative Tavel hissed as he leaned around the corner of the ramshackle hut. Smells of unwashed bodies and shit wafted over but he ignored the smells as he covered the lane. Thin green rays swept across his night vision as the other members of Claymore One appeared behind him, their IR lasers playing around, only visible to the night vision goggles donned by the UN special operations soldiers.

"Move!" Tyrier ordered and half the section broke off, as they sprint across the rows of huts. For once, the uncaring attitude of the Protectorate helped the UN soldiers as there was not a single lamp or torch lighting the streets or even the huts. And under the draconic treatment and laws of the Protectorate, none of the inhabitants dared venture out of their huts for fear of inciting punishment.

This meant that the enemies were easy to identity, as only the Protectorate Overseers, soldiers and Priests would carry a lamp or torch to light their way. And with so few light sources, the rudimentary night vision goggles of the UN was a cheat that no one from the Old World knew about.

Tyrier watched as a green white glow appeared from one end of the street and he aimed his green lines over and waited. Soon, shadowy figures highlighted by a flickery glow of lamps and torches appeared in his sight. He waited for a moment, allowing the party of Protectorate soldiers and priests to walk into the middle of the open street before he hissed out, "Engage!"

Almost instantly, Tavel next to him squeezed the trigger of their suppressed magelocks. The gunshots sounding like soft claps in the warm quiet night. Spent cartridges clinked softly together as they fell into a cloth collector attached to the side of the rifle, which further reduced any traces of their presence there.

Bodies flopped down and Tyrier patted the armoured shoulder of Tavel and together, they walked down the street at the ready. The rest followed each one covering a different sector. Tyrier put a round into the head of each body and had the torches and lamps extinguished before they continued on. Reaching the end of the street, he paused and triggered his comms, "Beholder One Two, this is Claymore One, where is Angel?"

"Claymore One, Beholder, Angel is just a hundred steps North of your position," The voice in the sky replied. "Angel is still in the same position, not moving."

"Roger," Tyrier replied. "Claymore Two, what's your sitrep?"

"Two Lead, lots of tangoes gathering at the square, over." The other team leader on the other side of the camp replied. "Waiting for HVTs."

"Roger, out,' Tyrier gestured for the rest to continue on. He knew Claymore Two was planning to take out all the Protectorate leaders or High Value Targets to cripple the local command structure. The intel they had on the Protectorate was that they had a very strict hierarchy that relies greatly on leaders to lead. Having indoctrinated in such a manner, the common soldiers would be headless once their leaders were dead.

"Claymore One, this is Two Lead," The comms crackled again after they travelled down another street. "Engaging HVTs... now!"

"Beholder One Two to Claymore One, Angel is right ahead on the left side of the street," The eye in the sky reported. "Angel is currently alone."

"Roger!" Tyrier replied and their pace fastened. Turning around the corner and under their night vision, they spotted the Princess hugging her knees as she rocked to and fro. "Princess Sherene!"

Hearing her name, Sherene stopped her rocking motions and turned to stare at the dark suited soldier that appeared out of the shadows. "Y- You are finally here..."

"Come, we need to move now!" Tyrier said as he helped the Princess up. "Where is your child?"

"T- This way," Sherene swallowed the urge to flinch away as she stood up. "I- I have been waiting for some time..."

"My apologies, my lady," Tyrier replied as he took a protective position in front of the Princess. "We... are late..."

"I- It's... alright..." Sherene let out a soft sigh. "Y- You all are here now..."

"D- Do you have any food?" Sherene suddenly asked, sounding embarrassed as they came before a rundown shack. "M- My child..."

Without another word, the Claymore One operatives all quickly handed out protein bars, ration packs and even packet juices. Sherene seeing the food, felt a prickle in her eyes and she covered her face as she whispered her thanks to the soldiers. Bringing the food into the hut which was home for her, she found her child lying asleep on a pile of rags.

With the help of a red lamp, she woke her son up and offered him some of the protein bars. Her son's eyes lit up at the sweet and nutty taste of the protein bars and nibbled away happily. Seeing her child enjoying the protein bar, she felt a sense of comfort.

"My Lady," Tyrier stuck his head in, his sudden foreignness scaring the small child. "We need to go... now!"

Sherene nodded as she carried her child up and comforted him. She grabbed a strip of cloth and expertly tied a sling around her child, allowing her to carry him easier. Without a second look at the place, she called home for half a year, she walked out with her head high. "L- Let's go!"

Tyrier nodded and with a few quick hand signals, the rest formed up a protective perimeter around the Princess and her son. He keyed his comms to inform the rest of the situation, "All stations. Claymore One. Angel is in custody."

"Claymore One to Beholder. Requesting an extraction route. Over." He asked the wing ship in the air for assistance.

"Beholder. Proceed South West from your current position," Beholder One Two started directing their retreat. Rejecting their offers to help her carry her child, the Princess and the special operatives quickly made their way out of the village without any additional trouble.

"Two Lead to One Lead," Claymore Two called in. "Enemy is in disarray, disengaging and will link up with you at Rendevous Point Beta!"

"Roger, see you at RP Beta!" Tyrier replied as they crossed the cultivated cactus field. The guards manning the few towers along the perimeter fences had long been neutralised, allowing them to escape the camp undetected. All along the way, the small boy carried on the back of his mother stared in wide eye wonder at the strangely clad soldiers running alongside them that sometimes would disappear and appear like magic!

As they ran, the church's bell suddenly started ringing, the loud dong of the bell echoed across the land and seemed to be able to wake even the dead. Sherene panted as she ran and faltered when she heard the ominous tolling of the bell. For her and those sent to repentation camps, the tolling of the supervision church's bell was a grave and ominous matter those always foretold something bad was to happen.

She froze in terror from the bell's tolling, catching the Claymore One operatives by surprise. Instantly, they crouched down, making themselves harder to spot and scanned their surroundings as Young, their section medic rushed over with Tyrier to check on her. Young was about to reach out to check her condition when she flinched back from him, causing Tyrier to frown at her reaction.

But Young instead crouched down next to the trembling Princess and asked in a gentle voice, "Princess? Are you alright?"

"Can I help you carry your son?" The medic asked in a soft gentle voice. He and the other medics had gone through a course about PTSD and emotional trauma and he recognized some of the symptoms here. "Boss, we need to take a break!"

Tyrier's frown deepened as he looked around their surroundings. They were still out in the open among the rows of cactus like plants and could be easily found if they stayed here too long. But seeing the situation and the look on Young's face, he knew something was wrong with the Princess right now. "Alright, we take ten! Alright people, stay alert and check your sectors!"

Young handed over a pack of juice to the shaking Princess and tried to calm her down while trying to help her. He wanted to cast healing and restoration spells on her but seeing how she flinched away from his hands, he knew that she must have psychological trauma and he knew enough to not push it. So, for now, he could only gently coax her to drink some of the juice and to see if she is willing to allow others to carry her son for her.

"I- I am feeling better now," Sherene replied slowly after she forced the fear that threatened to engulf her entire soul down. She accepted the pack of juice and instead allowed her son to drink first before she took a sip. The sweet sour taste of applethorne brought memories of her past that made tears flow once more. Finally calming down enough to stand up again, she finished the remaining juice and felt better. "I can move now... Don't worry, I can carry my son, as long as we don't travel too far..."

"Can I cast a restoration spell on you?" Young politely asked once more, his hands held up in a non threatening manner.

Sherene stared at those hands for a moment before she nodded and closed her eyes tightly, clearly controlling her emotions. Young quickly cast the spell with the aid of a mana stone and some strength and colour returned to Sherene. Young gave an apologetic explanation as he kept away his equipment. "My Lady, it is done. We can only do so much for now, but once we are in a safer location with more time, I can cast a higher level recovery spell on you."

"It is fine for now," Sherene replied quickly as she checked her sling bindings. "We must leave now... That bell is not something good!"



***** Author's Rumblings *****
Hmmm... I actually pretty much has no experience involving the behavior of 1-5yr old kids... So it might be lacking in the kid's story development...