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2013-09-25, 10:53 PM | [Ignore Me] #1 | ||
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(A QUICK ANNOUNCEMENT! To everyone who read part 2, I just noticed I left out a major plot point concerning the mission, to which I apologize. Hopefully you will enjoy this tale a little better.)
+++Personal Log+++ 2nd Lt. Strovd, Vicas. Mao Division, 52nd 'Validus' SOQRF Date: 28th of May, 2865 Location: Camp Waterson Bravo Squad, from a platoon of infantry to a ‘squad’ of the crazed and the cold blooded. I would list all eighteen of the men in Bravo Squad, but that would be too long for this log. There were a few, however, who I shall mention in this report. To begin with, Commissar Pierrick Alexandre, political officer of high standing, however, he only attained the rank of corporal before being sequestered to the political corps; he may be a weak link within the squad. Warrant Officer third class Nikolai, he is the man I look forward to working with. His record shows him to be one of the best damned Galaxy pilots in the Division; along with being a triple ace combat pilot against the Vanu. If he can shoot down those hovering scythes, dropping Bravo behind enemy lines shouldn’t be an issue. Bravo’s chief medical officer is Specialist Henrich Demyan, a native of these burning wastelands and welcome asset to the team, in my books. The Echo team in Bravo is made up of a pair of twins Borya and Dejan Vladlen, and the strangest pair I’ve seen yet. They’re both lean, pale, bug eyed and feral; but the strangest thing about them would be their silence. Neither of them has spoken a word since we’ve met, but I hope that is because they’re too keyed up. The last name that I believe should be of note within this report is Michał Bolek. Corporal Bolek and I grew up in the same village, and joined this war as soon as we were of age. It’s nice to see a familiar face in this war, with so many gone. Vitali dropped by earlier today, two squads that make up Bravo team have been given their individual call signs. The first team, led by myself, has been designated Red Bravo One. The second team, under Commissar Alexandre will be Red Bravo Two. Were this an earlier time, I would ask the powers that be for the safe return of all my men, but in this war, no one truly dies. We leave within the hour, so I had best get ready. +++End of Log+++ The Dark before the Dawn “In wartime, truth is so precious that she should always be attended by a bodyguard of lies.” Winston Churchill The Galaxy roared across the night sky of Indar, the glowing contrails left in its wake leaving a faint trail against the starry sky. The air itself was calm, thought that did not stop search lights from Mao Techplant from crisscrossing the sky in search for enemy night fighters. From within the cargo bay of the Galaxy, the silent forms of Red Bravo One set about their pre-combat routine. Leaning back against the cargo door of the Galaxy, 2nd Lt. Strovd watched his men from behind the lenses of his glare shades, his weary eyes observing the actions of his new unit with keen interest. Beside him, and equally as silent, stood an elderly looking man wearing a medics uniform. The mood was as dark as the skies outside, until a voice dared to break the silence of the room. “So Lieutenant, how were you recruited into this mess?” inquired Demyan, the seemingly elderly man standing just as tall and steady as his younger counterpart. “I volunteered, before I knew what hell this war truly was.” “You’re not that old, are you Sir?” further back within the transport, a younger Private by the name of Nika Valentin spoke for the first time as well. “No, I’m not that old. I am about twenty five years old, Terran Standard, if you must know. I was born and raised during the middle of this war, in a small village that sprung up in the forgotten reaches of Auraxis. With the war being as it is, recruits are never truly needed, only desired. Luckily, I was accepted into one of the last surviving military academies, meaning that I wasn’t forced to do much grunt work apart from the basic training.” The men within the Galaxy had, by now, ceased their pre-action routines and turned their attentions upon the Lieutenant, their dull eyes slowly sparking with interest at the man’s story. “The only thing that really shocked me about leaving for this war was the farewell ceremony. Tradition has it that, for all the men who go off to war, an empty grave is dug in their honor. This ceremony had only really been used back before nanites granted men eternal life, so I thought this action to be archaic and rather foolish. When I asked the Village Elder about this, and he was a ‘returned veteran’ from the conflict, he said only one thing; ‘this war you are about to enter may not end in death, but your soul will be damned to an eternity of torment, and you will wish for death before it is over’.” “Bah! Crazy old deserter couldn’t stomach this!” scoffed a dark skinned Private Vassily Francisco, the LMG strapped across his chest bouncing with exaggerated movements as he performed something similar to a strutting chicken in his seat. “And how long have you been at this, Vasil? Two, three years?” chided another private, his exposed face showing that of what appeared to be a younger boy. “Ack, hush it Fearghas!” At that moment, the Galaxy began to buck with what felt to be a series of jolts that caused the entire complement of Red Bravo One to cling to their seats. “Gah! Daft fuckers must have thought we were an enemy scout.” “A Galaxy, scouting? Have you been inhaling fumes again, Timur?” “Have you been snorting sand, Bolek?” Not amused in the slightest, Lt. Strovd removed his revolver from its holster, before sending a shot through the canopy of the transport and drawing silence from the team within. “Hush it, the lot of you!” pressing a small button on the cabin wall, he’d activate the internal comm system for the Galaxy, “Pilot, ETA to target?” “You’ll get there sooner if you stopped putting holes in my machine, you daft twit!” “The next hole will be in your head if you don’t watch your tone, Pilot, ETA?” After a series of rather loud grumbles, which were easily transmitted throughout the cabin, the pilot would speak up again, “ETA two hours and fifteen minutes, you’ll drop on time as long as the codes are good.” “Good, Strength in Unity pilot.” As the intercom shut off for the last time, peace settled back on the cabin as the feuding squad mates returned to polishing their kit. Stills standing at the front of the transport, Strovd nods with admiration at the diligence of his team before taking a seat upon the bench. “Red Bravo One, sound off; rank and designation.” “Michał Bolek, Corporal, Engineer.” “Vassily Francisco, Private, Assault Trooper.” “Alexei Timur, Private First Class, Assault Trooper, Demolitions.” “Bron Fearghas, Specialist, Heavy Support Trooper.” “Nika Valentin, Private, Assault Trooper.” “Henrich Demyan, Specialist, Medic.” “Borya Vladlen, Private, Echo Marksmen.” “Dejan Vladlen, Private, Echo Marksmen.” “Germogen Kuzma, Private, Assault Trooper.” Nodding as the last man called out, Strovd quickly looked over the assembled troopers with a quick glance. “Who here knows what we’re doing today?” Fearghas, Valentin, and Francisco put their hands up, along with Demyan, in response to the query. “Right, for those of you who don’t know, we need to break a hole in the Conglomerate lines, and there is only one place we can. They have the area around the Howling Pass Checkpoint completely secured on the ground, and our air can’t knock them out well enough.” Stopping for but a moment, Strovd examined the faces of those about him, searching for any signs of fear or weakness. Seeing none, he continued. “So, because of this, Red Bravo One and Two will be dropped in behind the enemy lines, where we are to set about securing the cliffs, and taking out the command of the NC within the region. Seeing as killing them won’t be very effective, we have been issued with these.” Reaching down, Strovd rips off the lid of a sealed steel crate, removing what seemed to be a civilian model air pistol. “This lads, is a Mark 348 Tranquilizer Gun, made for shooting down old Terran beasts larger than our prowlers. We will be using these little toys to knock out the enemy, and make our insertion undetected. Any questions?” The silence in the transport suddenly became deafening, not a sound was made until the intercom clicked on, “Prepare for drop, ETA three minutes.” “That’s our call, lads! Everyone gets this along with their kit, but you only have three shots. Make them count!” Part four coming to a post near you! Last edited by Lt Stroytov; 2013-09-29 at 02:25 PM. |
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