Firefly: Independence Ridge

From the Firefly-Verse

Independence Ridge

It was the last days of the War between the Brown Coats and the Alliance. Independence Ridge was several miles away was intended to be a support position for the valley, named Serenity, below. The plateaus that made up the ridge were a mixture of anti-aircraft emplacements and artillery bunkers. The ridge was also where several civilians had been relocated as an evac position but had been grounded by the approaching Alliance forces; arriving for the fight ahead of schedule.

The Independence did not have the resources of the Alliances. The planet, Hera, had been a major production facility for the Independence and its discovery would bring the War to head. If the planet fell, so too would the Independence. Civilians of every shade who had come to serve in the Independence war effort were being pulled out and sent to fall-back positions to continue the constant demands of the “Brown Coats”, the Independence’s own army. Supplies, civilians and aircraft were all grounded when the fighting began. Nothing was getting off the planet and it was up to the forces on the ridge to ensure that nothing was getting on; not without paying dearly.

After the first few days of the fighting, there wasn’t anyone no one left in charge on the ridge above a sergeant. Fighting on some of the plateaus had devolved into knives and fists in some instances. No one had reinforcements to send and no means to send them. The Independence was loosing and the there was no sign of reinforcements.

Corporal Ramey had become a Sergeant when the last filed-promoted corporal had been shot three days ago. He was in charge. He had joined the Independence to fight for the freedom to make his own choices rather than face the reality of the perfect police state of the Alliance. He had less than three dozen coats with him, and a fourth of them were civilians who had picked them off of the dead; grabbing a rifle to hold the perimeter along side seasoned soldiers.

Their position was half destroyed from sub-orbital bombardment; a miracle of Independence engineering that it actually managed to survive this long. They had no tactical position within the fight, their ordinance was half-depleted in the bombardment leaving them with only their own personal weapons to defend the position. There was no means of escape off the ridge, it was far too steep to climb and with the fighting still heavy in the valley below anyone who attempted it would be picked easily. Ramey was left with the duty to hold the position.

The civilians who he was trying to protect numbered almost twice his own troops, but most of them were not able to fight; not enough weapons to go around. Ramey’s promotion had come when a crashing Alliance gun ship had destroyed a section of their bunker that was being cleared to evacuate the position. Their escape had been cut off. Twelve Coats and twice as many civilians had died in the collapse. One of the people who had pulled the civilians together and managed to organize them after the cave-in was a man that always seemed to respond to the yell for a “Medic”.

Ramey remembered seeing him a few times since the fighting started; most notably after they were hit and the first cave-in cut off their escape. Occasionally he could remember seeing him skulking here and there in the bunker, pulling people to do odd jobs and generally keeping people out of the way of the soldiers who stood perimeter.

“Lieutenant… take this…”

The voice was unfamiliar but insistent. Ramey couldn’t place it but he was semi-distracted by the wailing of short-range artillery in the valley below.

The light was low, only the occasional flickering of concealed oil lamps in the rooms away from the front of the bunker.

The “Medic” was holding a small cup of brown broth, offering it to him. A smear of grime besmirched his face, giving him somewhat of a comical expression.

“Thanks…,” Ramey paused as he reached out to take cup; quickly scanning the other troopers around him to make sure that they had chow before he would accept it.

The medic seemed to catch the shift of his eyes and smirked a bit, “Yes, Lieutenant, they have been served.”

Ramey didn’t appreciate the smirk but accepted the broth anyway.

“Are you going to let me take a look at that?” The medic asked while the lieutenant’s thoughts immediately returned to the battle.

Ramey just glanced back to the medic curiously; having no idea what the man was asking about. He followed the man with his eyes as he reached for his leg, almost instinctively readying himself to butt-stroke him. It was then that he realized that his pants had a gash through them. Covered in dust and day-dry blood, he had cut himself on something but had been too preoccupied to really notice it.

“No, it’s fine. Save the meds for those who need it.”

“Don’t worry, I will, but since you’re the one who’s going to keep us together, I need you in one piece.”

Ramey wasn’t about to let someone work on him. He was quite capable of fixing himself. His shin would be a bit difficult to reach with the trauma plate covering his chest but he would make due. He didn’t like people touching him; especially medics. He glared at the medic before him in a silent order to move back.

The two men would easily have gotten into a heated argument about dressing the wound. Ramey insisting that his orders were to be followed at all times; even if that meant to leave him, and his wound, alone. The medic did not have a chain of command to follow, he wasn’t, technically, a soldier of the Independence. Both had a duty to follow and were equally as stubborn about it; one to the health of the people and one to the success of the battle.

Ramey put the cup of soup down and pushed himself to his feet, preparing for the first challenge to his authority. The medic stood as well, his expressionless eyes flicking side-to-side slightly as he began to pick up on the Lieutenant’s body language.

“Listen…” Ramey began coldly.

“…Medic,” an urgent voice called out from another room in the bunker.

His head spun around to find the source a second before his body turned to follow; someone was in trouble. Ramey reached out to grab a hold of the medic and answer the question of authority once and for all but was interrupted by one of his troopers calling out for him.

“Sir… we have contact in-bound.”

“Report,” Ramey barked.

“Gun-Ship on approach. She’s setting down on the south platform in one minute.”

“And you’re just now picking it up?” The medic already tweaked Ramey’s temper and it was all the more aggravated with this surprise.

“… shadowed a transport; didn’t see the echo until just now.”

“First and second squads on me. Third squad, hold this position and get the civilians out of the way. Prepare for ground assault!” Ramey barked out his orders as the rising sense of foreboding crawled into his mind. This could be it.

Gotta job to do…

Hold the position…

The troops filed out of the forward area of the bunker, grabbing grenades and weapons as they fell in line behind Ramey on the way to the entrance hatch. They would make a stand of it; such as they could. The narrow hall would give the Brown Coats an advantage but the Alliance would have more ordinance and better supplied troops.

The woosh of the gun ship could be heard beyond the entrance. They were close. As the first Alliance troops neared the entrance, they seemed unaware that anyone might be holding the remains of the bunker. The first five fell to the claymores hidden in the rocks. The fight for their small corner of Independence Ridge had begun.