[h1]RPGC#3 - The cosmos[/h1]

[i]The full list of runner-ups, staff picks, special category winners and honourable mentions can be found [url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/2852446]here[/url].[/i]

[h2]Winning entry: A tale of two solderis, by [@Keyguyperson][/h2]

The sun of Matrouh shone down on the rolling desert sands of its light side, the constant wind of the tidally-locked world the only thing that cooled the men of the 69th Infantry Brigade. The battle for the planet had been raging for almost a month, but the constant light had a way of messing with one's senses. In fact, despite the ever-present sun, it was almost midnight. It was as if it hadn't even been a day since the Terrans had landed. Combined with the heat, the disorientation was taking quite a toll on both Carina and Terran forces.

What little protection the dunes offered was augmented by sandbags, still a common sight on battlefields. The tightly-packed sand held within was, surprisingly, enough to stop a handheld railgun slug. Of course, it was absolutely useless against anything else. Despite the somewhat subpar cover, neither army had managed to breach the other's lines. They were both just too dug in to be broken.

The railgun of Yehiel Chatzkel laid upon the barrier of sandbags, besides those of the rest of his division. He stood out like a sore thumb in the line of lightly-furred Carina. His stark white wings made it quite clear that he was a Murtaden, a far cry from the vaguely marsupial Carina. The Carina Empire had few Murtaden in its ranks, and he hadn't met another in quite some time.

He felt lucky about his assignment to Matrouh, and the sector as a whole to a lesser extent. The Terrans were notorious for their cruelty to the Murtaden, but the Terran officer assigned to take Matrouh was known for his relative mercy towards them. If he was captured, he likely wouldn't end up in the worst case scenario of a Terran death camp. Unfortunately, the same officer was better known for his tactical genius than his mercy.

"You must be feeling pretty good." Said a soldier next to Yehiel, surprising him. He hadn't really noticed his brothers-in-arms, and as much as he wanted to believe it was because he was too focused on scanning the horizon for the enemy, his ignorance was the result of him being half-asleep.

"Huh?" He responded, turning to look at the man. Like most of the other Carina, he was licking his forearms in an attempt to cool them off. It was an odd thing for a Murtaden, but to the Carina, it was just a natural reaction to heat.

"You don't have to deal with the fur." Said the man, in-between licks. "With the wind, I bet you're just fine. Especially with that water on you."

"No, I'm just as hot as you. That's sweat."

The other soldier looked confused for a moment, despite the obvious drops of sweat on Yehiel's skin. It was a reaction Yehiel had gotten a lot during basic training. Though Carina sweat, the only sign of it they had was wet fur. Very rarely did one realize that someone without fur was actually sweating, instead thinking it was just something that had been spilled on them. It went both ways, too. Furless, sweating species almost never noticed a Carina's sweat.

"So [i]that's[/i] what that is." Said the soldier, laughing. "I thought someone had to wake you up by pouring water on your head!"

"Well of course that's not what happened, nobody can sleep in [i]this[/i] heat!"

The two shared a laugh, an action that despite all the differences between their species, was common to both of them. For that brief moment, neither cared about the battle.

[hr]

"Sergeant Günther!" Said Hariwini, turning to face the Terran soldier who had rushed into his tent. He was clearly hoping to hear some good news, Günther, however, was clearly about to deliver the exact opposite. "Do we have our supplies?"

"The fleet went down, Field Marshall." Said Günther, his head held low as if the loss was a result of his own blunder. "It was intercepted by Free Saggitarius ships in the Galactic Core. The only ship to make it was bringing provisions."

Hariwini sighed, leaning down on the table in the center of the tent. The map upon it ripped slightly as his hands pushed it apart.

"Fantastic." He said sarcastically "We get to run out of fuel and ammunition before we run out of food."

Günther was silent. Hariwini had always cared about his men, sometimes more than they cared about themselves. The battle wasn't going well, and Hariwini knew it more than any other. The way things were going, his forces would have to retreat to Matrouh's green belt. A retreat would be costly. If they lost the planet itself then they would have to avoid the Carina starfleet, a force renowned for centuries for its size and expertise. 

"Damn those Norma! If their High Command knew what the hell they were doing, we wouldn't be in this mess!"

A gust of wind came in through the tent's doorway, bringing sand with it. The gust threw the sand up onto the table, sprinkling it all over the map. Hariwini growled quietly, dusting it off violently. As he did so, he couldn't help but wonder what right Matrouh had to be such a strategically important world. The only things that actually mattered on it were the outposts on the light side, which let the Carina ships refuel on their way to the two main Naval theaters of the war. If not for them, the planet would be nothing more than a tiny little colony.

"Sir, our defensive lines are still strong. I'm sure we can hold out long enough for-"

"This operation failed the moment we were cut off! The worst part is that Könntesein will kill me if I pull us out! We need reinforcements that don't exist, dammit! I can't pull this off!"

"Sir, you just said it yourself, we can't retreat. You're the Wolf of the Core, surely you can pull this off!"

"Sergeant, you are dismissed."

Hariwini hung his head in defeat, clutching the map tightly with his fingers. The worst had come to pass, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He made it clear to Günther that he had no desire to hear the words "Wolf of the Core" anytime soon.

"Understood, Sir" Said Günther, leaving the tent.

[i]Surely he just needs to think about it.[/i] He thought, reassuring himself as he walked back out into the sweltering heat of the desert. [i]He's the Wolf of the Core, he always has a plan.[/i]

[hr]
The noise of moving tank treads could be heard in the distance as reinforcements from the other defensive locations closed in. None of the tank crews were particularly excited with the idea of going up against the far superior Terran hovertanks, but they had little choice. Even with their supplies cut off, the Terrans were holding their lines well thanks to their minefield. If the Carina wanted to reclaim the rest of the planet, they would have to act before enemy supplies managed to get through.

A dust storm loomed on the horizon, not a major one, but a dust storm nonetheless. Seeing an opportunity, the Carina General had hastily put together a plan. He had ordered the 69th and 24th Infantry Brigades, along with two armored forces and a Corps of soldiers from one of the Carina colonies in the Lower Galactic Core, to breach the Terran lines. The soldiers from the LGC were to make a hole in the Terran minefield near one of the many ridges on the battlefield, through which the 69th and 24th would advance and take their respective objectives. The armored forces were both ordered to disrupt the Terran communications lines. Combined with the cover given by the dust storm, it was hoped that after three separate tries, the Carina would finally defeat the Terrans.

Already, the LGC Corps was advancing for the minefield. By midnight, the dust storm would have arrived and they would have breached the mines. The Terrans wouldn't be expecting an attack in the middle of a dust storm, which gave the Carina a major advantage. For once, they would be carrying out an attack that gave them the advantage. Everyone was sure that this was it, that this would be the last time they would have to assault the Terran lines on the light side of Matrouh.

Despite how successful the operation was set up to be, everyone was tense. Just because the operation would succeed didn't mean there wasn't any danger. The Terrans were some of the best fighters in the galaxy, and everybody knew that there would be casualties. Everyone had the same chances of being wounded, the same chances of dying. The father of three could die just like the young man of eighteen, the slug of a railgun doesn't care who it hits.

Yehiel knelt behind the sandbags, watching the LGC Corps leave the safety of the defensive position. He'd survived the Battle on Alazag, but that was just luck. Luck that he feared had run out.

The General was giving a speech, talking about the importance of Matrouh and how everybody had to be at their best for the operation to succeed. Nobody was listening, of course. It was the same thing they had been told the last two times they attacked the Terran lines, there was no need to hear it again. In fact, it was probably better that they didn't hear it. All it would do would be to remind them of the past failures.

"We move on the signal of the LGC Corps!" Yelled the General, finishing his speech. It was the only part anyone heard, purely because it was voiced as an order.

"Yes Sir!" Came the unanimous reply of the soldiers who had reached the staging area. Their voiced enthusiasm was a flawlessly executed performance.

[hr]
"Problems with the dust, Sergeant?"

Günther was in the middle of a coughing fit thanks to the sand that flew all around the air. He'd always had a hard time dealing with it, and the assignment to the Galactic Core had been a nightmare for him. The inhabited planets were mostly desert, and he'd had to endure much worse dust storms. The only upside was that Hariwini cared about his soldiers more than he did their body count, which was unfortunately an abnormality among Terran generals.

"Yeah." Said Günther, pausing as he coughed. "But I'm more worried about what comes with it. Hariwini expects the Carina to use it as cover for an attack. He's ordered everyone into defensive positions, but in these conditions, it'll be hard to stop them before it's too late."

"He's the Wolf of the Core, I'm sure-" Began the other soldier, but he was cut off by the sound of explosions in the distance. The minefield was being set off.

"Enough talk, Private. Wake the rest of the squad, we'll be needed soon."

"Yes Sir!" The soldier said, saluting before he ran off to the tents.

The other soldiers were rushing around the camp, some of them only recently haven been woken. They were grabbing their railguns and preparing the tanks for battle, some of them running down the ridge to man defensive turrets. Nobody was wondering whether or not they would drive off the attack, they had succeeded the other two times. They were just wondering whether or not they would live or die.

[i]Looks like Hariwini was right again.[/i] Thought Günther [i]I just hope that we haven't bitten off more than we can chew.[/i]

[hr]
[i]At least the General made the right decision.[/i] Thought Yehiel, staring ahead into the dust storm. Of course, the only reason he knew it was ahead was because everyone else was looking that way. Visibility was practically zero in the dust storm, making the advance much safer. While it might make it harder to spot enemies, the same went for the Terrans. Once they had made it through their lines, they could easily take their objectives from the unsuspecting soldiers guarding them.

A flare went up deep within the dust storm, just barely bright enough to be seen. It was the signal to advance. Almost immediately, the Carina moved out. The tank below Yehiel lurched as it began to move, an unfortunate side effect of having treads. Terrans got the luxury of having smooth acceleration when they rode on top of their tanks.

Normally, the infantry would be riding inside of APCs, but they had lost most of the vehicles to the Terrans in the last two attacks. Riding on top of tanks was the only way to get most of the 69th to the front, not that it was a rare sight. Most soldiers remembered a time when they had to ride on a tank during either an attack or a simple relocation. After all, APCs weren't known for their ability to combat tanks, especially not Terran ones.

An explosion went off nearby, but all Yehiel could see was the flash. It was a tank that had crossed the edge of the gap in the minefield, sentencing its crew to death. At least, that's what he hoped it had been. The only alternative was artillery fire, which would make it clear that the Terrans knew where they were. If they did, then the operation would be a complete failure. 

He felt the tank begin to slow, prompting him and the rest of his squad to jump off into the desert sands. The rest of the soldiers were doing the same, and some of the tanks turned their turrets to the left and the right to cover the departing troops. Everything seemed to be going perfectly, but the orderly departure of the troops was interrupted by a scream. Nobody knew who it belonged to, but everyone heard it loud and clear.

[b]"TERRANS ON THE LEFT FLANK!"[/b]

Sure enough, a stream of railgun slugs flew towards the 69th. Yehiel ran to the nearest cover that there was, a small rock just in front of him. He returned fire with his own railgun, but in the dust storm, it was doubtful that he actually managed to hit anything. If he had, then he was lucky in more ways than one thanks to the low visibility of the dust storm. He wouldn't need to know the face of the man he killed.

The tanks opened fire in tandem with the rest of the 69th, the thunderous sound of their cannons shaking Yehiel's chest. Squads rushed forward, some being hit by enemy fire, some being lucky enough to make it to cover. The commander of Yehiel's squad yelled for an advance, and he obeyed. Railgun slugs flew past him, some just barely missing him. His luck hadn't run out just yet.

"Keep pushing!" Yelled the Sergeant, and Yehiel once again obeyed. As he rushed forward into the Terran fire, he prayed silently in his head. Praying that the Terran fire pass him by.

But the slug of a railgun doesn't care who it hits.

He fell onto the sand, dropping his railgun. White feathers stained with the crimson red of blood flew up into the dust storm, carried away by its wind. The shredded remains of his left wing lay on the ground beside him, blood pouring out onto the already tainted sand. The pain was simply too much. All he could sense in that moment was the horrid pain in his wing. He couldn't stand, he couldn't even move. All he could do was cry out in the bloodcurdling scream of a soldier in pain

[hr]
The [i]br-zap[/i] of railguns filled the ears of Günther as he blindly fired his own weapon into the dust storm. The Carina forces had arrived, and the Terrans were prepared. Even so, it was obvious that they would need to pull back. While they expected the attack, they didn't expect the entire enemy force to arrive at the same time. Most of the heavy forces were being held back, the idea having been that the Carina would have continued their advance if they thought they could still succeed. Unfortunately, the enemy was better prepared than they had anticipated.

"Get to cover!" He yelled to his squad, ducking behind a rock. "Hold them as long as you can!"

A tank shell landed near another soldier next to him, sending shrapnel into them as they fell out of cover to be hit by an enemy railgun slug. Some of the shrapnel hit Günther himself, but he was lucky enough to have it be stopped by his armor. Mostly, that is. Some of it tore into his arm, enough to cause him to yelp out in pain, but not enough to make him useless. He lifted his railgun and fired a barrage towards the Carina, hoping that he might, by some coincidence, hit whoever killed the soldier next to him.

A railgun fired from behind a nearby rock, its slugs just barely missing Günther. The Carina had gained so much ground in so little time, there was barely any reason to even try to hold the position.

"ALL FORCES, FALL BACK!" Yelled the Captain of his Company, and Günther thanked God that the Captain knew when to quit. He raised his railgun once more, firing at the rock nearby.

"I'll cover your retreat, get out of here!" He yelled to his squad, who didn't question the order for a second. The Carina behind the rock looked out to aim for a shot, and Günther immediately opened fire. One of his slugs hit the man right in the head, the force was enough to kill him instantly.

Günther himself started to fall back, diving over another rock behind him and firing a few shots. The nearest cover was a sand dune nearly parallel to him, aside from it, there was another, smaller rock a ways behind him. He chose to go for the sand dune, which provided more cover and was closer. It also let him cover the retreat of his squad better, since it was closer to the enemy.

He jumped out of cover and ran to the dune, just barely making it through the Carina fire. He took a moment to catch his breath, looking around him to see it anyone else was at the dune. As it happened, someone else had made it. The moment Günther laid eyes on the red-furred alien, he knew that he had made the last mistake of his life.

A hail of railgun slugs from the Carina soldier hit Günther, dropping him onto the ground. He was barely alive, not that it mattered. There was no way he would survive. He accepted his fate, closing his eyes, he made what he thought would be his last plea.

[i]Let the squad make it out of this.[/i]

[hr]
Yehiel awoke to the coughing fit of a soldier next to him, his wing still burning with pain. Openeing his eyes, he found himself on a cot in the medical tent at one of the defensive posts along the line. Doctors rushed around the tent, desperately trying to keep everyone inside of it alive. As much as they tried, there would still be deaths. It was an inevitable fact of medicine that some patients will be lost. Even so, they still tried. If a single man lived when he could have died, then they had won a victory.

He closed his eyes again, the light was just too much. The soldier next to him kept coughing, making Yehiel notice the ever-present dust that had made its way into even the medical tent. A few others were coughing-for obvious reasons-but none of them like him. Yehiel opened his eyes for a brief moment to look at the soldier, and he saw that he had lost both his legs, not to mention plenty of blood. His skin was pale and bare, the closest thing to fur being his short-cut, blonde hair. A pair of dog tags lay on a stool between the two cots, reading "Sgt Günther, 7th Motor Brigade". He was a Terran.

Yehiel couldn't help but feel sorry for him.

He reached out for Günther's hand, clasping it with his own. Günther opened his own eyes, looking over at Yehiel. He could only keep them open for a split second, but it was enough to see Yehiel's wings. With the strength he had, he returned the gesture and clasped Yehiel's hand. Neither of them cared that they could have been firing at each other, neither of them cared that the other could have been the one who hit them. In that moment, they just cared that both of them were people, people in the same situation.

"Viel glück." Whispered Günther, his grasp on Yehiel's hand slowly slipping. Yehiel just held Günther's hand harder, refusing to let it go. He didn't know any Terran languages, but he could tell what the words meant.

"Viel glück." He responded, once again tightening his grip. He opened his eyes for just a moment before he fell asleep in his exhaustion.

Günther was smiling.

[hr]
Yehiel woke up again, finding a doctor standing above him. He looked over to the cot where Günther had been, finding it empty. There was warm metal in his hand, an oddity which he couldn't help but investigate. He brought his hand up to his eyes, opening it to find Günther's dog tags.

"What happened to the soldier next to me?" He asked the doctor, setting his hand down beside him, still clutching the dog tags.

"He died during the night, you were still holding hands."

[center][hider=Author's Note]
This story is loosely based off of the First Battle of El Alamein, thus the name of the planet (Matrouh), which is the name of the Egyptian Governate which El Alamein is located in. Hariwini takes the role of Erwin Rommel, and I'm sure you understand the reference to his nickname. The Carina (From the Carina-Saggitarius arm, which also happens to be home to the analogue to the French) represent the British, the Norma are the Italians (From the Norma Arm, of course), and as they did in the other story of mine set in the same universe (Never Forget), the Terrans represent the Germans. Now, that's not the point of the story, of course. The point is that it's based on a true story.

There really were two soldiers, one British one German, who were injured in the battle of El Alamein (Whether it was the First or Second one I don't know, unfortunately). The were in a field hospital next to each other, and really did hold hands through the night. I'd talk about the references in the battle, but I feel like that's all you need to know.[/hider][/center]