"How do you get MS Paint to save as JPG??"-Carnelien
"stare it down" -SlingsNArrows
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| The Men of Area 37-- Chapters 1 and 2 | | | Author: | | | IP: | user-33qXXXX | | Date: | 09/14/00 04:09 | | Game Type: | Starcraft | | Labels: | none | | Report Rating: , # of Ratings: 1, Max: 7, Min: 7
Lifetime Rating for LuckyNewbie:P: 8.4737 |  | | |
Prelude:
It wasn't a game, contrary to what most of the commodores thought. This was hell. While the commanders were allowed to stay in safe haven watching the battle unfold in real time from some artificial imaging system in an air conditioned room with attendents all around, not even they could deny it. Rather than pick up actual images of the people they were sending off to die, they had little icons that didn't look human. Rather than hear the shattering screams of the dead and dying, a female voice notified the one responsible "Our base is under attack" in a tone that was merciless and without emotion. To them they were nothing but an icon, those men down there who died by the thousands and millions.
Sure, in a few hundred years or so, the only thing that will be remembered for these brave men will be a number. The number dead, the number wounded, and the number that went missing. Their pain would never be known, their story never told, their blood, and tears of men just like you and I never recognized, as it was none of anybodies concern. They didn't exist. This is their story.
Chapter One "The Valley" <
0700, Area 37, Tarsonis Coloney, Confederate Capitol World
Fear was in the air, as it was for the past fifteen days. It hung there like an unwanted stench, and was unforgiving. The troops tried to go on with their lives; they always acted the same as if there was an elephant in the room with them that everyone pretended wasn't there. But it was more than there, it was all over them, making them shake and vomit, it never went away and never let up. Everyone knew they were dead, and they tried their best not to be reminded of it. But as always, fate had a way of making herself clear, and the base alarm wailed across the land. Captain Roberts shouldered and positioned his C-140 guass rifle outside the bunker window. Displacing the normal ammo magazine with an automatic feeding belt, his sweaty hands grabbed onto the piece of Confederate engineering. He knew they were out there. They had to be.
For 36 hours they had been besieged by insect like rodents known as the Zerg. These beasts had seemed to come from hell itself, with glowing red eyes and a ferocity Roberts had never seen. In charge of mining operations in Area 37, he was now the only security officer still alive. This was no part due to his commanding, but in positioning. The mining complex was located on a platue, and the only way in or out was through a forever stretching valley. Normally linked up with their comrades through an airlift Route, this had recently been vanquished with the onslaught of the Zerg. Although it was true that the complex could survive on its own, this had never been attempted. Good as their inginuity was, the Confederates had never thought of simple things for a siege such as food and water.
"Idiots" Roberts breathed
"What was that sir?" Corporal Evans asked
"Nothing"
"Do you think we'll ever get outta here?" Evans persisted. This time getting no response.
Nearly out of sight, at the end of where the once bueatiful valley could be seen from their position, Dirt was rising from the ground in ever increasing size.
"Looks like this is gonna be a big one... where hell is our recon team?"
"I dont know sir, they haven't reported in--shit!!"
Evans was already activating his com unit, built into his Marine battle suit, but there was no responce from Jermey Longdale: Private, First Class.
5 kilometers from area 37, Longdale was beginging to panick. Not only did his base not concur his sighting of a possible incoming enemy force, it did not respond at all. The swirling mass was approaching his position steadily, and the Private knew he had to leave fast.
"Jermey!! What the hell is that?!!!" came a voice behind him, but it was already interrupted with the spell of Guass fire. Running faster than any human ever could, an orange demon came bearing down on them. Longdale brang his rifle onto it, his battlesuit hands around the grips. Lining up his sight onto the charging beast, he depressed the trigger and was blinded by the brief blast. As with most first time rifle shooters, he looked to see what wrath his gun had brought, lowering the sights. Instead, he saw the same creature coming strait for him as before. Jermey brang the sights to again but could not get a second burst off when his comrades opened fire behind him. Jermey thumbed down the trigger and held it, and was almost knocked back by the power of his weapon, and was forced to stop when the safety took in and ceased his fire. The creature, he saw to his horror, was still bearing down on them. Three more bursts however, and the creature started to show signs of damage. It was no longer racing, but limping at them as its front right leg had been blown off. Still, Guy continued to loose more rounds into the beast, until it stopped moving altogether.
"WE GOTTA GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!!" Longdale screamed into the intercom, and nobody seemed to object.
Captain Roberts also had adreniline pumping through his body. Visor up, he was free to attach an optical zoom divice. Sure enough, the cloud of dirt coming down on them was their dreaded enemy, but he still couldn't find-- Wait! There!
"Down in the canyon" Roberts announced with an awkward calmness. Sure enough, in the distance there were three figures to be seen, all in Standard Marine BDU's (Battle Dress Units) Running towards them. About 100 yards behind them, however, was fury Roberts eyes had not beheld.
"ALL UNITS!! HOLD FIRE!! We have three friendlies down there. Wait until they have cleared the area before opening fire!" The last thing Roberts wanted was to kill his own men, especially ones he had put at risk and was responsible for.
"Bravo 1, Thats a Rog'"
"Bravo 2, Afirmitive, weapons dry"
"Bravo 4, Very Well"
"Sierra-Tango 1, You got it"
"Sierra-Tango 2, Roger, holding fire" Came the replies
Master Seargent, Arthur Gregory, Armored Corps had found the enemy coming in from the northeast, as usual. His vehicle, the T-220 Arclite Siege Tank, Designated Sierra-Tango 2, was in place between two bunkers, Designated Bravo 2 and Bravo 3.
"Inbound, 030, Multiple Contacts!" the Gunner shouted
"Target! Closest inbound!" Gregory ordered
"Locked on!" came the reply
"Bravo Leader, this is Sierra-Tango 2, we are locked on to targets, request permission to fire, over!"
"Sierra-Tango 2, Bravo Leader, Weapons free! Dont hit anything close to the friendlies!!"
Roberts continued to look towards his comrades in the valley. The distance between the recon team and the beasts after them was closing. Suddenly his com unit came alive with the sounds of Longdale's voice.
"...--AVO LEADER!!-- WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU!!" Longdale yelled between breaths, it had to be Longdale.
"Recon Team, this is Bravo leader, we have visual on you, over"
"BRAVO LEADERL, RECON TEAM, WE ARE BEING PURSUED, REQUEST PERMISSION TO USE ADRENELINE BOAST OVER!"
"Recon team, Bravo Leader, Permission granted, Get the hell out of th--" Roberts last word was cut off by the awesome power of the acrilyte siege cannon firing down at its longest range. Fire erupted upwards from the barrel, and nearly a second later the swirling mass exploded upon recieving the plasma round. But as Roberts saw, the effect did nothing, and the attack kept coming.
Gregory was sitting in the metalic seat of the Siege Tank, and was not satisfied with the results. His tank had been upgraded many times from its original form, but still he knew he did not get much, and the blast was only superficial. It was a shame that he didn't have an optical enhancement device in the targetting equiptment to see the results, but there was no time for that
"Reload!" Arthur ordered "Target! Next Inbound!"
Another explosion appeared in the distance. Arthur knew it to be the tank between Bravo 1 and 2.
"Target, 027!" shouted the reply from his Gunner. "Locked on!"
"Loaded and locked!" Peters, his arms specialist reported. Although it was true that the loader could be replaced by an automatic device, Gregory didn't feel that he could trust it with something that could easily break down. Besides, Peters had been his loader, --officially renamed Arms Specialist-- ever since he hopped inside the first tank prototypes, and felt he trusted him more than something mechanical.
Not only that, but lately there has been reports of the automatic feeder not completing its tasks, forgetting to lock and leaving the breach of the massive cannon open, and when fired dispensing the effects within the tank itself and frying the crew instantly with its deadly plasma charge. But right now he had other tasks at hand.
"FIRE!" the seargent ordered
"On the way!" Came the reply from his Corporal
Three seconds after his first shot, the second one came out of the barrel, and as usual, the explosion could be seen in the distance, but not his effects.
"Reload!" Arthur ordered, then asked "Range to targets?"
"1,300 meters" his Gunner reported
"Manual Target!" Gregory commanded, Bringing a scope to his face. It was attached into the Optical Targetting System (OTS) and when used could pick up a specific firing point that could be seen outside the tank once it was close enough. This was used to target contacts visually. They had to be entering Guass range Gregory thought...
So did Roberts
"Bravo units, this is bravo leader!" Gregory said over the open Com unit "Fire at will, Repeat, Fire at will!"
The ridge along the valley line erupted in a flame of bullets, and Gregory did likewise. Aiming his Weapon out the window, he selected a small target that appeared to be a doglike creature. Known to the rest of the Confederacy as the "Zergling" this ferocious beast has been seen ripping everything to shreds with its powerful claws. He bore the sight up as usual, and put it right on the beasts long head. He tenced, repositioned himself and fired. The rounds got there almost as soon as he pulled the trigger, and he could see the creature collapse, seeming to lose all of its momentum, right into the ground. The top of its body, where the head extended was sitting in a pool of gushing blood. A direct hit, Roberts knew. He brang up his rifle on another target, and squeezed again.
Longdale was in a dream. His mind could pick out things individually. As he raced back to the complex, he could see all four of the bunkers light up with the guass fire. He could see when the fire went on and off, the milleseconds between the firing. He seemed to be going so slowly, as the world around him did. He could see his destination now. The only thing he could hear was the regular beat of his heart, and the breaths he was taking. The eruption of the siege tanks, the roar of the guns, the screams of the hellspawns dying was all shutout now. He had one thing on his mind: Get out of here! It was a small natural ramp that lead from the valley floor the the plateu. He could see one of his Comrades, who had been running ahead of them since they started, seem to glide up it, running very very slowly. In the actual time only seconds were passing and the person running the ramp was going almost as fast as a vulture hover bike. Finally reaching the ramp, Longdale felt signs of relief, but if anything, he went faster, he ran all the way past the bunkers, past the fighting ground and all the way to the barracks. He turned around as fast as he could, although it seemed very slowly, as if he were in slow motion. He saw where all the action was, and watched as the last person came up the ramp. However, he did not make it all the way when he arched his back backwards and fell face first. Right on his back, his tackler, was the ugliest thing Longdale set his eyes on, and also strikingly similar to the creature he saw earlier. Its powerful sharp claws were slamming right into the weakest part of the battlesuits armor. Longdale didn't think. He brang up his rifle, running towards the beast, and fired off a fully automatic burst. However, to him it seemed as if the bullets were coming out one at a time. He could almost count every round that came out of the chamber, and all of them were striking the creature in the left hide. As if run over, the beast practically flew off of his comrade, from the shear power of his ammo.
He continued to pound round after round until it seemed the rounds were firing faster. Everything appeared to be a blur, and his heartbeat, all that he had heard for what seemed months floated away. The Stimulant Package effect was gone. He checked the Private that had been tackled, and saw that his strong metal armor had taken most of the beating. Nothing critical had been hit, and the armor was in no way "compromised" as the officials put it. He grabbed him up to his feet and both of them aimed guns down the ramp. Nothing was there. He checked at the beast he had slain. It was a bloody heap of unrecognizable origin. He checked his ammo in his clip. 20 rounds. Jeez! he poured 180 bullets into that thing just to get it off! He hit the left side button of the rifle and the magazine fell. However, before it could reach the ground, he grabbed another one off of its carrier, slammed it into the rifle and loaded in a first round.
Maybe the effects aren't totally gone, Jermey thought. Two minutes later, when he realized all of what had happened, and what could easily have become of him, he had an uncontrollable case of the shakes.
The attack had retreated, Roberts saw. And as the last siege rounds flew towards the fleeing targets, Roberts disconnected his Rifle from the auto feeder, replaced his magazine and climbed out. Outside, bunker walls were almost totally corroded. Some were burning. He knew this would not be the last attack on the position. It had only begun.
End of Chapter One
Chapter Two"Take out"
Captain Johnathan Roberts was in the command center soon after. It had taken him a few seconds examination of the BDUs of Longdales Recon force in the Engineering Bay to realize that, by an amazing coincidence, all three of the com units in the recon force were running at lower than 30% efficiency, At LEAST half power is needed, if it is to be heard clearly at a range above one kilometer. Longer than 5 kilometers, and a faint whisper would occur only on a good day.
All of this just went to show how long they had been here. No new BDU's, Supplies, Material, Evacs, or mine hauling operations had taken place since the zerg invasion. It was noon when he was summoned to the communications section of the command center.
"Sir, im picking up a heavily encrypted transmission from Tarsonis City, I think you should see this sir" The communications officer stated.
"Very well, put it on main screen" Roberts acknowledged. A few seconds later, it was done.
---Begin Transmission---
To: All Mining Security officers from Areas 032-145, Garrisons 155, 124, and 070, Tarsonis Aerospace Defence Command (TADC),
From: Commander In Chief, Tarsonis Militia
Situation:
Critical supplies reported extremely low in certain sectors. Heavy casualties and lack of resources of fighting battalians constraining war efforts in besieged areas.
Protocal:
At 1030 TST, Dropship Supply rhoutes will be open. Tactical Fighter Wings from the 145th, 390th and the 21st are to escort numerous transports carrying vital supplies. Air superiority is critcal to effort. Dropships will unload quickly and reload any excess resouces and casualties to be taken for treatment, and/or proper disposal
Mission:
Prepare any evacuees for immediate loading, and get ready to unload and store supplies. Transports can only stay maximum of five (5) minutes ToT (Time over Target). Zerg forces will attempt to shoot down any transports they can find. Have Space Construction Vehicles on standby to repair damaged escorts/escortee's. Recommend construction of Turrets take place.
Threat Analysis:
Possible Mutalisk/Scourge teams to harass and perform raids on the blockade run. Possible Spore colonies. With the loss of orbital satellites, enemy air defence is unknown. Flight path will be taken over inhospitable terrain, as Zerg Air defence cannot be constructed there.
---End Transmission---
"Well would you look at that" Roberts second in command, Lt Grooms, commented "Looks like someone up in high command has gotten their head screwed on for once"
"Looks like we gotta get ready for a visit, we have some work to do" Roberts announced. He glanced at the time: 0800 TST (Tarsonis Standard Time, of which their local time was 4 hours ahead). Two and a half hours notice... not bad. Roberts allowed himself a smile. While it was ample time to prepare for the transports, if the Zerg had managed to decipher the message somehow, it wouldn't allow them enough time to put their entire force in the way.
Well, it might not be such a bad day after all, Roberts, mused.
Lt. Colonel Michael "Boomer" Brooks was in charge of the 6th wing of the 390th Tactical Fighter Squadron. His mission today was an interesting one, he thought. More than a thousand dropships and wraith escosts would be taking off towards besieged locations and arrive at the exact same time. His job was to escort 4 dropships: CSDS Battleaxe, CSDS Amsterdam, CSDS Juliet and CSDS Tremor with the rest of his wing. Three wraiths per dropship. Not bad. His destination was Area 37, Mining coloney that has been cut off from the world for more than 5 days. With a ToT of just 5 minutes, he was curious if it would be long enough to unload all the supplies. Oh well, it wasn't his matter anway, leave that to the shipping pukes. He walked down the corridor towards the briefing room.
At Kelson Starport, 10 km north of Tarsonis city, CSDS Battleaxe and CSDS Amsterdam were taking in their loads. Second Lt. Michelle Armstrong was inspecting the cargo for both ships. One top of the line siege tank, lots of U-238 Guass ammo and Plasma shells, Rations of food and water to last two weeks, repair materials, 15 new battlesuits and a fresh order of Stimulant Packages. Not to mention the 5 corpsmen in to treat the wounded. All unloaded in five minutes with the badguys coming after them. Well, at least she had a good escort, but 5 minutes to unload and reload?! She knew it was all for the best, but it was insane to think they could unload so much in such a short time. It took 20 minutes for everything to fit into place. Climbing up into the ship, she came into the control house.
"Good morning Kevin" Michelle said to her crew/load cheif.
"Mornin Leuitendant, Five minutes to get all this outta here?" She could see he'd been briefed
"Yeah, I know, its just not possible"
"Naw, I've done worse." Kevin stated with a grin
"When?" Michelle started going through preflight. All of the controls worked perfect, and the engines had recently been refitted to take the extra cargo. Even though it wieghed tons, it could still corner like no other. Systems online, Hydralics online, INS online, Cargo doors nominal, Fuel at 75% (This was to fit it with more wieght and not effect performance), Navigation fully functional, Vectoring jets ready, Electricity and Cabin lighting were a go. Everything was ready to fly.
"Char. I used to be on the crew of the CSBC Warrior, one of the earlier Battlecruisers. When the cruiser came down with a reactor problem we had to set down on one of the primary bases. Took a full two weeks to get the damned thing back online. By the time we were ready to go, the base had gone to shit. The Zerg had simply overrun all our assets there. We ended up dumping anything not essential and taking in evacuees. At least a thousand got aboard in 2 minutes. We left just in time too, 3 minutes after, there was no human left within 100 kilometers." Kevin explained, as The Battleaxe left its hanger. Hovering outward to the pad, The Amsterdam was right on its heels.
Armstrong gave 75% to the rear engines and pitched the engine nozels down, keeping the craft level with the horizon, while increasing speed and gaining altitude. At 4,000 meters Armstrong vectored the nozzles strait back and gave full power, increasing her speed to 3000 kilometers an hour. Juliet and Tremor appeared at the starboard side in a few minutes, and no words were exchanged. Reaching her first waypoint, she pitched the nose down. Now came the fun part.
"Boomer" could see Battleaxe and Amsterdamn racing along at his twelve o'clock.
"Spread formation, close in on both sides, Marshall, Raymond, you stay behind and watch the flanks" Brooks commanded, and no acknowledgement was needed. Flying in tight Echelon Formation since coming to full speed, it came as a relief to be more than 5 meters from another plane screaming across the sky at 2 times the speed of sound.
"Good Morning Battleaxe!" Boomer said with a laugh. Armstrong didn't see him coming.
"Stop the hotdoging Colonel" Armstrong replied. "We are now approaching waypoint two, were gonna break right and head down Hummings Gorge. Keep it tight, because its pretty narrow." Although armstrong didn't outrank Boomer, she was in charge of the mission because she commanded the entire purpose of it.
Boomer relayed the orders, to the dismay of others just getting used to keeping it loose. They came in, 6 in front of Battleaxe, 4 behind Amsterdam, Juliet and Tremor; and two more wraiths guarding the flanks. It was a narrow fit, but they all manged to go in. Screaming around the bends, the auto-pilot and INS (Inerital Navigation System) of the four dropships relaying data to the smaller, faster wraiths. Going this fast, turning so quickly, and never slowing down is a dangerous thing to do. Then came the worst part.
They had to climb out of the gorge and continue for the next 30 kilometers on open terrain. The lead flight of 6 wraiths, led by Lt.Col Brooks increased their speed even more so and jolted out of the gorge a minute early, looking for targets. There they were, as if waiting for them. Facing at them, around 30 or so of the wierdest looking thing Brooks had ever seen, was the enemy. They had red wings that beat as fast as a humming bird, and were capable of incredulous speed. There was a triangular "Mouth" at the bottom of a J shapped figure when viewed from the side. Boomer, realizing he was outnumbered 5 to 1, would have panicked if he didn't have cloaking ability. However, the dropships didn't.
"Gold Flight, Gold Leader, Combat spread, everyone pick a target!" Boomer commanded, Breaking radio silence. Everyone did immediatly, and came right at the mutalisks, closing the distance.
"Turn on cloaking!" This again, was done immediatly.
The mutalisk force was puzzled by the turn of events. Having no sentience and recieving command only from their cerebrate commanders, the first volley went unmatched. Boomers missiles struck under the right wing, where the limb met the body, and the creature started an uncontrolable spin, losing lift on one side. The others hits weren't so lucky. One impacted dead center of the now hovering creature. The skin trobbed and muscles tenced at the point of impact, but it was not a critical hit. Another went wild, its seeker heads not activating until the target had already passed. As luck would have it, another pair Gemeni missiles struck a creature right in its hollow "Mouth" and the thing's bottom half exploded. The rest of the body fell limp to the rocky surface below. Yet another flying beast was damaged, missiles impacting a hole in its wing. It had no choice but to fly away. The squadron raced past the puzzled fliers, of which 27 were still alive. Turning the stick to the left and pulling it to his lap, he made a 13g turn and beared down on the flyers again. The rest of his flight, still in formation, came around with him, spread line abreast. Another volley fired, downing 1 more, and breaking the beasts into two elements. Another Turn, Another volley, and all 6 pairs struck wounded flyers, killing them. The twently left realized the hopelessness of engaging an unseen enemy, but found the transports and came at them. Brook's Formation, about to launch its fourth volley when the 20 flyers changed direction and ran away from them, towards Battleaxe.
"Gold Wing, this is Gold Six, fliers bearing 020, engage at will". The 6 guarding the Battleaxe and Amsterdam Pulled above the bigger ships and turned on cloaking. Boomers wing increased speed to full, and the two formations were closing on the same moving target, at a combined speed of 4,000 kilometers per hour. Both volleys were realeased, and 6 more came tumbling out of the pack, meeting up with the jagged surface. At a speed going this high and without coordination, both wraith flights went below the targets to fly past them. Mistakes were bound to happen.
On pushing the stick down, Colonel Brooks bottom side felt like it had collided with the ground faster than it could. His entire world shook violently and his body sent to all sides of the cockpit, the autopilot overriding all manual controls. His bottom burst laser for limited air to ground use was completly ripped off and Brooks was tumbleded into a series of four flips before the autopilot could regain control at a scant 400 meters above the ground. Boomer knew it to be a midair collision, he was still to high to have hit a tall rock. He checked his six, and right there, was the not so fortunate ship of the accident.
Captain Marshall's wraith had collided with Brooks, its one and a half foot armor plated cockpit completely shattered, being struck head on with the burst laser that was now driven in like a stake. The instrument lost from Boomers ship was now lodged in the black glass in the same place where the Captains head should be. It wasn't long until the solid rocket boosters ignited. In a few seconds, he found he was correct.
Captain Roberts saw it too. On his way to the makeshift landing sight from the command module, he saw and explosion off in the distance. He checked the time: 1127 Hours TST.
"Bravo 1 and 2, get out of those bunkers and get over here, were gonna have a situation" Roberts said in a tone that was once again awkwardly calm. The wounded were sitting right outside of the barracks with a few of their comrades with them. They had cleared out an area in the center and had 4 T-130 Space Construction Vehicles (Although they were also used for mining ops) ready to make repairs.
He grabbed the optical zoom device he had on him, and brang it to his now visor free face. Off in the distance, in the middle of the noon sky, were four distinct figures racing towards them.
Dropships he figured, but behind them were T shaped figures, which were much smaller than the ships, but appeared to be shooting a green spray at them. He focused on one of them. As he was tracking a beast as it was flying behind one of the wounded ships, he saw two missiles appear out of thin air and strike the beast in the rear, sending it forward and downwards. If it had enough space to recover it would, but at only 500 meters the beast landed top first into the unforgiving earth.
"What is it sir..?" Bravo 1's leader, a Corporal, asked curiously.
"Over there, southwest" Roberts pointed "Those are tranports coming in, and it looks like they are under attack. theres two formations of em. One of em has about 9, the other with 5, and they are focusing their fire on seperate ships"
"Wheres thier escort?" Bravo 2's leader, this one a Seargent-Major asked, loading in a fresh clip in his Guass.
"Take a look for yourself..." Seconds later another explosion ripped a mutalisk to shreds, 5 seperate pairs of missiles colliding at the same point in mid-torso, and the thing was sliced in two. "Cloaked, but still effective" Roberts didn't have to say.
"What's the plan" Bravo 2's leader asked again
"You take your men, set them up behind the barracks so they can take cover, but still have a clear shot." Roberts turned "Corporal, I want yours at the other end of the pad, and blast anything that doesn't look friendly."
Battleaxe was fitted with the latest Soft Armor technology, and was literally a flying tank. Its sides were all equal in strength, much stronger than any Wraith or Goliath. However, the repeated abuse of the corrosive goo was taking its toll. Lights and warning horns went off all over the Cockpit, indicating three of the four engines were not functional, one of which was on fire. On the topside of the craft was what remained of the soft armor slabs. It seemed to look like it had been eaten up and spat back out, dents, holes, scrapes and all sorts of damage could be seen.
Armstrong was struggling with the controls, the power was only 1/8th its maximum, barely enough to maintain flight. The planes control systems had been severly crippled, and were now tossing the ship around like a childs toy. The only thing that hadn't taken a sever beating was the cargo bay, which was good news. Switching to Guard Frequency on the Com Link, Battleaxe gave announced its distress.
"Mayday, Mayday! This is Confederate Warship CSDS Battleaxe en rhoute to Area 37 please respond, over!!" Armstrong called out in a professional tone that hided her fears of the situation.
"This is C.O of Area 37, we read you five by five over" came a crackled voice.
"Area 37, Battleaxe, we have three, repeat three engines out, one on fire, our armor is being severely compromised, I need to put this thing down NOW. We are losing Cabin pressure, Hydralics are malfunctioning and were running on one engine. Vector nozzels are functioning at 50%."
"Copy Battleaxe, We have a pad set up down here, but your gonna have to drop some of the load before you can put her down safely."
Armstrong thought about this. How the hell had this all started? Sure, she joined the Confederate Navy to "explore my universe" as the recruiters had put it. But had she expected this? Certain death over a few hundred desperate people over medical supplies and ammunition that would only explain the inevitable? Had she expected to lose her life on a planet she didn't even know? Of course not! But now look where I am now. Im in a fucking gray cockpit with lights going off like a christmas tree, a concerned load chief behind me waiting for my word, and i'm being jolted and bounced in all directions! Outside the tainted window wasn't much better, as her entire universe was exploding in one deafening blast. The rumble of the last working jet engine blocked out all noise, and it was all very sobreing. Peering past her sunglasses and drawing back all of her strength, she turned to Kevin.
"You know what we gotta do"
End of Chapter Two
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