Shell-Shock (TR)

[Orisoll]

The following week. . .

The attack on the NC Warpgate was being staged all around me, several dozen Prowler tanks lined up into a tight formation in the forefront, some thirty-eight AMS-Equipped Sunderer transports took up position behind them, and a general rabble of Harasser buggies, Flash ATVs, and Lighting tanks brought up the rear. Not an impressive force on it's own, but that was only the vehicle core. Next to them were nearly eighty Galaxy troop transports all struggling for space in the cramped Warpgate.

The sounds of engines and shouted orders were deafening, all but drowning out the Republic anthem playing over some loud speakers located somewhere among the amassed army.

"You have any idea where when we're starting!?" A familiar engineer to my right screamed over the thunderous roar of engines and orders. Chance had it that he'd been assigned to my squad for this campaign.

It struck me as odd that he wouldn't know when we were to start, seems like our assigned squad leader had given us the briefing only a few hours prior. But I could hardly blame the kid, things tend to get foggy when you know something terrible awaits you. Makes me wonder how the Conglomerate soldiers are coping with the knowledge that the entire fury of the Terran Republic is soon to be upon them. The poor rebels, I understand their pain. Everyone on Auraxis understands each other, we all fight the same war.

The sound of our squad leader shouting something in our general direction snapped me back to the present. I turned to Nolan and responded to his inquiry.

"Right now!" I shouted back, noticing the rest of the infantry core beginning to load into their Galaxies. "C'mon! Our Gal is right up there!"

With that our platoon began to load up. The wide ramp of our squad's transport dropped into the thick slime below, allowing us to run up the slope and strap into the Auraxium-hard seats that lined the walls and seemingly were built for anything but humans. Typical Nanite Systems design, function over form, or in this case comfort.

I stamped the grime off my boots on the already mud-smeared flooring, took an open seat near the closed off cockpit, strapped myself in, then awaited take off. The ramp rose back up into position with a metallic groan as old motors and hinges struggled to to their task. Everything was dark save for the slight light that shown into the musky passenger bay through a few cracks around the ramp.

"Hey man, got any last minute advice?" Nolan quavered from the seat next to me, tapping his feet in a vain attempt to calm his fraying nerves. I caught myself doing the same.

Considering the question for a second, I responded, "Think of things that are important to you. . . home, family, loyalty, whatever. Use that to strengthen yourself, use it as a motivator for your actions. It's about all you can do. It about all any of us can do." I repeated it in my head for myself.

He paused for a moment, then drew a breath as if to speak, but instead just bit his lip and settled back into his seat and remained quiet.

After a minute or so of dead silence among all the soldiers, save for the occasional cough or shifting of weight, the pilot's voice scratched over the intercom stating that we had thirty seconds until take off.

A couple of troops exchanged glances, a couple fidgeted nervously, and some, like myself and Nolen, simply sat with our heads quietly bowed waiting for Hell to meet us head on.



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Sorry for the delay, I kinda stopped playing Planetside for a while and had trouble finding inspiration.
Nevertheless I'm back at it now. Feel free to tell me what you think and whatnot.

And merry Christmas!