2ndMechanized; My humble little story.
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The Sunderer�s pneumatic brakes screeched and sighed as the fifteen-ton armored carrier ground to a halt. The light from a setting sun caught the upper end of the carrier�s command aerials, which were mounted in the gutted 75mm gun cupolas. A red-and-black soldier scrambled out of the awkward driver�s hatch and dropped down to the torn, brown earth with a grunt. He checked his armor for any mud, straightened himself out, and then opened the passenger ramp. He greeted another Terran; this one taller, with gold accents on his armor, with a brisk salute.
Colonel Nikolai returned the salute with a firm smile. A little lean, a little drawn, his face reflected the confidence of experience. He pulled out a cigarette, which the soldier lit for him. �Good driving, Keppler�, was the officer�s short word of praise. The other man beamed.
�Colonel!�
Nikolai turned to face the call. There stood Holt, a younger officer wearing a little more black and a little less gold. �All formations are present. Sergei�s platoon has lost two Prowlers to mechanical trouble and recovery crews will attempt after dark. We are in contact with our supply lines and a depot is being formed in that gulley to the east. Refueling parties are prepared and our infantry is debussed.�
The colonel looked back from where he came. Two Prowlers were stranded in ditches somewhere, their crews covering the machines in thermal camouflage tarps to keep them invisible in the night. Off in the distance, the high whine of a Reaver�s engines reflected off the hillsides. It would be a difficult night for them. Nikolai took a drag off his cigarette. No matter. He had only lost a fraction of his armor�s total strength. His eyes looked around him. They were in a bowl between three hills, high enough to command the surroundings but graded gently enough to easily depart. It was a good spot for the night.
�Very well, Major. Establish our Skyguards on the crest of these hills, camouflaged of course, and make camp when that is completed.�
�Yes sir!� Holt said briskly, snapping his heels together and his hand up in salute. Nikolai returned it. The Major spun back around and hurried off into the gloom. Nikolai took another draw and tapped ash off the end. There was still a little light left�
�Sergeant Keppler! My field glasses�, Nikolai said as he started walking southward, up the highest edge of the bowl. The sergeant hurried to catch up before falling into step behind him. Once at the top, Nikolai felt the last trace of warmth against the right side of his face, cool ocean air against his left. Spread out at his feet were miles of dull grassy steppes and a few clusters of trees. Good armor country, just as he had expected from the maps. A short, thick grey line lay just shy of the horizon. Nikolai took the optics and peered through them. Dropship Station Kilo-Juliet came into focus, its radar dome and superstructure highlighted in orange flame against a dark purple sky.
Nikolai flipped a switch and the station burst into a myriad of warm color. The walled courtyard simmered with heat waves while its defense turrets glowed a bright orange. The windows and rifle loops in the buildings all showed up as pinpoints of light, a sure sign of occupancy. Lastly, columns of faintly heated air rose and drifted sideways like smoke from the dropship pad. The base was manned, certainly. Probably quite heavily so. A faint hot blur appeared on the road and Nikolai flipped the switch back to normal light. A Vanguard pulled up to the base�s gate, tiny ant-like figures sitting on the turret and chassis. Well manned, but relaxed. No commander would have his infantry ride tanks for transport if he knew the danger only a few miles away.
Let me know what you think.
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2004-02-04, 07:47 PM
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