There came a roar of thunder, muffled by the thickness of sweet protective earth. But it was the flicker of the shuddering lights, humming flashes of lightning, which awoke Private Laram, groaning against the stone cold rockrete floor. Once propped upon his elbows, his bleary vision found the lho stick he’d dropped when… 

‘Oh,’ he croaked, hazarding a glance back the way he’d been running. ‘Right.’ 

It returned in waves to his swimming mind; the alert that the xenos had infiltrated the tunnels, with orders to get below, and the call that came far too late that the brilliant artillery team decided to bury the aliens. Sitting up, he plucked the lho from the dust and lit one of his few remaining matches. Beyond the faintly soothing smoke rising fresh off the burn, he observed the rubble that had nearly killed him. Of his company, only one bare hand lay uncovered. 

Laram crawled over with considerable strain, his back aching fiercely. He did his best to clear enough rubble, but poor Markus wasn’t breathing. However long he was out, it was enough that those not crushed outright had probably suffocated. Lucky Laram had at long last truly earned his fateful nickname. Heavy-hearted, he relieved Markus of his tag, and prayed the rest would forgive his inability to bring back more. 

‘God-Emperor guide you, Mark.’ He sighed, clutching it as he made the crossed wings of the holy Aquilla across his chest. 

He had to move on; otherwise, the tunnels would claim him too. But the closest exit was back that way. Wracking his unsteady mind, he tried to recall where the nearest communique was. Then, when he reached up to scratch his thinking head, screams of pain ran stinging from his cranium all along his spine. He wrenched his helmet off to examine, and found the flak armor deeply, thoroughly cracked by the collapse. And his hand shook when he saw how much blood pooled in his palm. Fumes came off his lho faster. Whatever he was going to do, it had to be fast. 

‘Ha,’ he said, dryly, surprising himself.  ‘Haha… damn, these are… pretty useless.’ Another wry laugh escaped him as he let it drop with a clack. He picked up his lasrifle, hoping it had just enough battery to keep those carapaced freaks at bay, if any of them survived. 

His legs wouldn’t carry him on their own, complaining almost louder than him. With grit teeth sucking air, hissing, he planted his off hand upon the wall to steady his injured gait. Every staggered step was a labour, and soon he was already panting; he was worried any surviving xenos would hear him coming. 

Muffled roars occasionally pierced the ceiling and earth above, followed by the crack of thunder, then the shake and shudder of his surroundings. Every speck of dust sent another prayer hushed from his trembling mouth. But the ongoing growl of the battlefield above was also his only companion, so he almost welcomed the reassurance they hadn’t lost yet. 

Time slipped away from Laram in his aching stupor; he wasn’t sure if he’d been walking ten minutes or an hour. The only thing telling him it couldn’t have been that long was the worry he might collapse before he got that far. But whatever remained of his burning lho nearly fell from his lip as he rounded the corner and saw it. 

Miracle of miracles, it hadn’t heard him coming, preoccupied with another cave in, so Laram slipped back beyond the corner for cover and spied on it; his lasrifle shook in his hands. The creature appeared to be trying to free a comrade from the rubble, and desperately so. It grunted, yanking on the limp arm, pleading in its foul alien tongue, and… and it was…

‘I-is it crying?’ Laram heard himself whisper in disbelief. 

Alarm ran all along his aching spine as the thing’s head jerked around, and two glowing vertical eyes fixed upon him. From his braced position he quickly aimed, hoarsely shouting, ‘D-don’t move, xenos, a-and put any weapons away!’

‘Please don’t shoot!’ came back at him in Low Gothic, and he almost dropped the lasrifle in shock. It continued, arms raised in surrender. ‘I’m unarmed, I swear! I surrender!’ 

Laram blinked, unsure what to say. One of its cracked glass eyes seemingly gave out. It shook its head with a sigh before reaching up and removing the carapace — no, it was a helmet. Underneath, she had blue skin, a platinum top knot, and eyes gleaming like rubies through the tears. 

Tossing the helmet aside, she returned her hands to the raised position. ‘I swear I’m unarmed, alright, please don’t shoot. I just—’

‘How’d you learn Low Gothic?’ Laram said, taking aim again. No xenos trick would play him so easily. 

‘I have gue’la friends back home, they taught me—wait, right, sorry.’ She smacked her forehead. ‘Jax told me in your language, you call yourselves… “human”. Is that right?’ 

Laram grimaced. ‘Humans don’t live with aliens. Nice try.’ 

‘It’s true, though! We have former gue’la colonist neighbours where I’m from. I even have gue’vessa squadmates—’

‘Stop lying!’ he shouted, fingering the trigger. If one more blasphemy left her mouth… Laram wasn’t sure what he’d do, if he were honest. What did it matter if they both ended up buried down here? 

‘Ugh, fine,’ she spat, gesturing back to the other limp figure. ‘Just… please let me get my brother out of here. I promised I’d keep him safe, he’s the last family I have left. I’m begging you.’ Another tear fell across her blue cheek. ‘Please?’ 

The tag he’d plucked from Markus suddenly felt very heavy around Laram’s neck. Despite all his better judgement, he almost felt like saying yes. And as he wavered, another roar overhead, thoom! 

She became buried too, and he was left writhing alone in the same dirt as always, without even one last lho to see him off.