Fifty-six - (spell & grammar corrected)

[Vulpine]

Fifty-six

By Vulpine

 

This is the third short story of 5 that I wrote. Imperial guard Snipers against eldar ranger snipers. Hope you have fun reading this!

 

[]

 

Through the sight it was as if he was in arms reach of the mon-keigh officer. The officer gingerly led his platoon of fifty men through the rubble of the ruined human city below. The ranger could see every crude detail of the armour, it was supposed to be ornately sculpted but to the Eldar ranger it looked cheap and jagged in comparison to that of his own kin. He could see the bright smile of ignorance on the officer’s face and the dark stubble on his chin. He does not even have the pride to shave, the Ranger thought to himself, dirty mon-keigh. The ranger stopped breathing briefly and put pressure through his slender finger that pressed so lightly against the trigger.

 

=

 

The make shift Headquarters five-hundred meters away reminded Sargent Baker of home. They triggered something in Bakers head, like mothers on a school drop, he thought. The way the Chimera APCs had just jammed themselves around the ruined buildings at the hem of the old city. Like mothers trying to get parked.

 

It was quiet and the only movement that caught bakers eyes were the billowing of the cammo sheeting or webbing that each Chimera had pulled out alongside of itself to form a make shift tent. No gunners watched out the turrets, no guards at the one foot sand bag gate.

 

Baker held up his hand and his unit stopped and dropped, pulling their sniper rifles up ready. Baker looked back at his comrades. It was such a contradiction, framing his unit were hills and fields, not a building in site. Ahead lay a sprawling con-densely packed ruined city.

 

"what ya see?" corporal Hix asked,

Baker watched the make shift camp carefully, he could just see the few helmets of imperial guard bobbing about, "all clear" Baker gave the order and his men raised themselves back up.

 

Bakers unit entered the camp, as he crossed the low wall out the corner of his eye he could see movement, he turned his head and there was a guardsman, squatting behind a pile of sandbags, lasgun aimed towards him, "who goes there!" the guardsman called,

 

"Sargent Baker thirty third airborne, Catachan, with my snipper unit" Baker stood to attention

 

"you don't look Catachan?" the grizzly faced guardsman groaned,

 

"well, its awful cold Sir, didn't think my vest would be enough" baker replied removing as much of the sarcasm from his voice as he could in order to not offend the old man.

 

"Well" the aged guardsman lowered his lasgun and pulled himself to his feet, "follow me, I'll take you to the commissar, he's expecting you" Baker and Hix followed the old timer, his venerable back hunched and his body filled with osteoporosis.

 

The tiny grey guardsman led the two of them towards the far side of the camp. The guardsmen all lying around on the muddy ground, "Snipers you see" the chroned old man croaked,

 

"yeah that's right, were snipers" Baker answered, what seemed to be a rather stupid observation seeing as he had a sniper riffle over his shoulder and had just told him he was a sniper unit

 

"no" the old man barked "there ARE snipers, that's why we all lie on the ground,"

 

"oh, sorry" Baker apologised "that's why there's no guardsmen in the tank turrets then?" it was funny how baker was going to mock the old man for his sniper comment and yet he appeared to be the one pointing out the obvious.

 

"Fifty-six, that’s twenty four guardsmen and thirty-two officers that Eldar ranger has taken out!" The crooked reply,

 

"so is that why the Commissar has requested us?" Baker probed the man for answers but the old man responded as if he hadn't been listening,

 

"No one else fit enough to lead us you see, but the commissar and that bridge in the city you see, only bridge in eight hundred miles"

 

"So we are here to take out the ranger then?" the old man stopped at the rear of a chimera, still not answering

 

"The Commissars office," he stated in his husky voice, the question still unanswered "leave your friend and weapon with me"

 

=

 

Baker lay in crumbly dust, in a building that was once a person’s home, a small jagged rock has found its way to an uncomfortable spot but Baker just lay there. Still.

 

One high corner of the room had completely collapsed, and the wall to his left had a massive gaping hole in it. The wall to his right was still covered in the burgundy wallpaper that the previous owner once put up, like a lasting memory of better times pasted onto the wall.

 

His sight aimed across the wide street, and next to a large window baker could see a sleeve. This was it, baker thought, the Eldar sniper that had been holding the company up.

 

He had been watching the rangers sleeve since sunrise. Weighting for the Eldar to stick its snooty beak out of the window.

 

The sleeve started the ruffle. This was it! Baker thought, this was the moment! The sleeve then jumped out the window and fluted to the dusty streets below. It was nothing, just a piece of plastic.

 

Baker slinked away from the window, leaving behind that pointy, peace of S#\] rock that had annoyed him for hours. He stood up and headed towards the door.

 

As he walked across the landing he felt something underfoot, he looked towards the floorboards to see a doll. The pressure of Bakers foot had crushed the head into the tangled matted hair. Baker felt uncomfortable, this may had once been the cherished toy of an imperial citizen. He bent down and picked the shatter doll up and placed it gently on what remained of a little wooden table.

 

=

 

Hix slipped out the alleyway into the tributary that lead to a main street and slinked to the end of the building.

 

He looked around the corner through his site. His bushy greying beard full of small stones and brick dust.

 

The street was full of fifty odd crumbling houses all in different states of decay, all jagged and mismatched like Ork teeth.

 

No high buildings here, no decent sniping locations, no view of anything but this one street. I wouldn't snipe here, Hix thought to himself, weighing up the potential possibilities.

 

Hix viewed every window fearfully, he took a steep out. Nothing, he started to bound quickly across the road heading for the cover of the husk of a burnt out Vehicle.

 

Hix never knew it happened, flying through the air, silently was a tinny javelin of metal following him faster than he could ever move.

 

It sliced through strands of his hair at sonic speeds as it found its spot at the crown of his head. It pressed against his skull and without cracking or crushing sliced through it and into his head, the tiny micro detonation made no loud bang, no fuss or mess.

 

Hix dropped to the ground, the dust swelling up around him.

 

The sniper had claimer his fifty seventh kill.

 

=

 

Baker moved to the window edge, it's been hear, baker thought as he pressed his fingers onto the moist floorboards.

 

This is where the ranger has urinated as it waited for ages at this window. But why here? No sniper would position here. And if they did, not for long.

 

He looked through his scope and down the little ruined street. At the bottom, hunched over was the body of Hix.

 

"You Bastard" Baker snarled. "You’re a good sniper, but choosing purposely weak positions, breaking sniper rules, you’re too cocky, let's see what other rules your breaking"

 

Baker slipped back into the shadows of the room. His figures sunk into his deep pocket and grabbed at a frag mine. To obvious. He fingers rummaged and grabbed a drawn map. He looked at the markings and tried to focus through the dark. Each marking was a dead guardsman, each had a numbed in the order they were killed.

 

That's it! Backer felt as if he had just solved a hard crossword puzzle. I think I have you.

 

=

 

The Ranger had a target in view. The ranger could feel his sight moving with his breathing and even more so, he felt the wind drop for a moment. He held his breath and squeezed so gently on the trigger. Such a gentle press. The javelin left the riffle and sped across the street. Through the glass-less window and into the empty room, passed the rotting doorframe and along the damp corridor, through the second doorframe into the crumbling room on the opposite side of the building. It burrowed into the unsuspecting Catachan snipper.

 

Fifty eight

 

=

 

Baker climbed through the hole in the wall that connected the two building. His laspistol scanning the room as he entered.

 

He holstered his weapon and brought his riffle up. He tip toed to the window.

 

The Eldar ain't been here either.

 

This had convinced Baker. The ranger was breaking sniper rules. Two officers and a guardsman had been killed in the street below. All out of order of one another and all as far as he could tell, from the same location.

 

Baker had searched every line of sight to the street and only one place showed signs of being occupied.

 

"So, as I thought, you reuse positions" Baker whispered to himself "but why, you feel so pompous, that's it ain't it, humans are way too stupid so why bother? I'll wait for you to reuse again and I'll have you"

 

=

 

It was raining incredibly heavily now that the sun was beginning to set, the visibility was poor and the Eldar ranger could only see three foot ahead of him through his scopeless eyes. Rain bounced of the water logged road splashing the stone curbs with mud.

 

This was perfect the alien was thinking, the splashing of my footsteps would go unnoticed.

 

The Eldar danced as it ran across the flooded road and into the once heavily shelled building. The building provided no shelter from the rain. But a short stay should suffice.

 

The Eldar climbed the wooden staircase using large strides to overstep were the missing rungs of the stairs were gone. As it reached the first floor the Eldar kneeled and scrambled into the room nearby.

 

Before looking out the window its spindly arm reached under the old rotting sill. It pulled out a canteen of water that had been stored there before.

 

After taking a sip the Eldar turned onto its front and raised its self onto one knee. He pointed the ornate riffle in the direction he had herd the guardsmen only moments before.

 

Through the sight were two Catachan snipers, sitting inside a small building eating some food, and talking. Fools. The Eldar took aim at the one on the right.

 

By the time the one on the left had realised his comrade was dead the second javelin was already launched.

 

Fifty nine, sixty.

 

The Eldar ducked straight back down. It moved across the room and dropped through a large hole in the floor boards.

 

The ranger then crossed the flowing street and into the rubble on the other side.

 

=

 

Baker waited patiently, he had been in his hide over twenty four hours. Little did he know but he was the last of the snipers from his unit now. He could see the view of the street and the three long dead guardsmen still resting were they had fallen. The rain poring, He needed sleep. He closed his eyes, hopefully he would rest but not too deeply.

 

=

 

The ranger stood still at the bottom of the old stone staircase. Perfectly still as it listened for noise trying to block out the pattering of rain.

 

The staircase has an inch wide river flowing down it and dust was swirling in its current. The Eldar hoped up the staircase more silently than the trickling river going down.

 

The Eldar reached the top into the single small wooden floored room. The Eldar slipped into the one corner were the tiled roof still remained at the top and not in lose piles like other three corners.

 

He pushed his hand into the crevice of the wall in order to pull out some stored equipment. But then something catches its thin eyes. Over the street, in the room a little lower is something.

 

The Ranger droops down and pulls the riffle up to his chin. Straight down the site and in one corner of the room is the last cloaked Catachan arms crossed over his chest, sleeping.

 

The ranger watches for a clearer view.

 

"Two sets of rules I said I'd never break..." the Eldar freezes as the words are spoken behind him.

 

Baker stands up from the pile of tiles, without his jacket of cloak, brick dust in his eyes and shaking from the cold but from this range he could never miss.

 

"First set you've been breaking, rules of the sniper, the second set I've been breaking... my mam always told me never to go out without my jacket on"

 

Baker pulls the trigger

 

Sixty one.

[Vulpine]

Thanks EesiOh for the spell check ;-)

[SW1]

I really enjoyed reading that!!! :tu:

[Carrack]

That was really good. It reminded me a bit of Enemy at the Gates. I like how you captured the attitude of both guard units as well as the xenos, without having to go to great lengths to do so. Also, suspense, I find is hard to write, your story definately had it. Good story.

[Carrack]

 

My spelling is poor. I spell as it sounds usually. I have Dyslexia, so I struggle with spelling and grammar. So eventually I could get a mate to prof read and edit for me.

Thanks

Hey the more I read your stories the easier it is to find the rhythm of your writing, getting proofread is nice, and maybe worthwile, but I don't think you need to go through any great lengths to do so. Id rather see more stories sooner than have to wait on proofreading. My two cents.

[Vulpine]

Hi Carrack. Fantastic, thanks for that! My main failing in this one is I think I haven't done enough character building.

 

SW1, at the end of the day that's my aim mate!

[paulJam]

two (minor) points, take it or leave it...

 

- isn't 60 the eldar sniper's count... and the scout sniper would be on 1?

 

- the analogy... 'like mothers on a school drop' / 'mothers trying to get parked'

  this makes sense to me but would it make sense from a wh40k perspective.... do mothers drop kids at school in cars in wh40k? 

  the point being that is less common in the stuff i've read to reference current practices. or more commonly to grimdark it up (admin scholum, hive based population, massed peasents, illiterate underhives etc etc).

  it's a big galaxy and it's possible that it works like now.

 

food for thought, nothing more. write on.

[Vulpine]

Yeah. The count of 61 could be the count of how many had been killed in that week... But that's kinda the sarcasm of it.

 

The school thing... But your right:.. Perhaps instead of school I should put some other thing young humans go to?

[paulJam]

Yeah. The count of 61 could be the count of how many had been killed in that week... But that's kinda the sarcasm of it.

thought it might be a weekly count. doesn't distract from the story at all; was just curious.

 

The school thing... But your right:.. Perhaps instead of school I should put some other thing young humans go to?

there may be hive schools, or peasant schools or the scholum for admin orphans etc.

it was just a general observation that people seem to avoid making current references (even though we understand the references).

might make the narrative more immersive... dunno.

 

 

anyway, still enjoyed it  :)

got anything in the pipelines for us to look forward to ?

[Vulpine]

Yeah, I have four more on the board at the moment. I was thinking of doing another based of 'the human within' but it would be about the commissar Grey... I like him, the problem I have is there is loads and loads if stories now, fan a and pro ficthion based on commissars.