Fan Fiction /Labor Day 2011/The Horse's Fall

From MFIWiki
Jump to: navigation, search

A Horse Without a Rider

Star date: 58542.43 Tue Apr 06 2382 17:47:00 (Central Daylight Time)(Terran Reckoning)

"H-Hour plus Twelve"

Location: Barkon IV, 80 Kilometers West of Fistur.


Almost sixteen hours of heavy combat had taken its toll on his Marines. They were attempting to hold off the enemy long enough for the rest of the invasion force to make it off planet, and losing ground quickly. McBain estimated they had about an hour before the situation degraded to the point they would be stranded. He’d stopped listening to the loss reports after they’d reached fifty percent casualties.

Finally word came across the comm. that the last of the force lifted into orbit, now it was just the First Maquis Light Horse on the ground of Barkon IV. Fighting still raged around him, shouted orders and the unceasing roar of weapons fire. He cleared the dust from his throat and shouted “Major K’rell to me!” after the second shout the Major shouted back his reply “Moving Sir!”


It took K’rell a few moments to reach him and after he slung himself to the ground next to McBain he asked “What can I do for you Sir?” McBain chewed his lip for a moment then spoke “Major, order the men to cease fire” K’rell stared awestruck at his Commanding Officer for a moment a question forming in his expression but only replied with “Aye, aye Sir!" then set about ordering the remaining Marines to cease fire.

After a few moments the fire tapered to a stop and an eerie silence took its place. The Mercenaries across the field began jeering at the Marines, asking if they were out of ammo or, had lost the will to fight.

McBain drew his field knife, a Klingon blade his late wife had given him and gave it to K’rell. “Give this to Monaldi for me will you?” He paused looking into the Majors eyes and put a hand on his shoulder “Reon, you’re in charge now. Start getting the dead and wounded loaded up and when you see my signal you load up and get the hell out of here.”

He then pulled a white handkerchief from his pocket, looked around for a moment, picked up a jagged metal strip and tied the handkerchief to it, he then made his way through the remaining Marines, his face blank, trying not to see the questions on their faces, “Sir, are we surrendering, but we never surrender?” “Just give the word Skipper” and “What’s happening Skipper?” seemed to be the prevalent ones. He slowly walked up the small embankment protecting the Marines from the enemy’s fire with the white flag over his head and his right hand raised, he made a show of slowly drawing his sidearm and dropping it on the ground. Then he walked slowly to the Mercenary lines where he was quickly taken from the view of the remaining Light Horsemen.






Return to: Fan Fiction/Labor Day 2011

Personal tools