A Little Piece of Hell
Hidden Word of Blake Compound
Free Worlds League, Unknown Planet
3065
The ground shook and the buckled. Pieces of debris from the roof and walls crashed on to the floor. Demi-Precentor McCauley grabbed the edge of the computer console to keep from falling to the floor.
"Damn it. What was that?" he shouted at his assistant, Technician Weler.
"Long range artillery sir; unknown design and damn heavy shells if you ask me," replied Weler.
"Artillery from who. Are the FedComs attacking?" he responded.
"Not sure sir we have got scout one's lookin' around," was the reply.
The speaker crackled" Scout one here I have some movement in the tree line. Looking now. The hell, damn big artillery. What." The transmission went dead.
"As of now we are treating this as a hostile act against Blake's forces.." began McCauley.
"Take that Unbeliever bast-Transmission Interrupted- sucker your gonna pay. Ghh ahh. –Unintelligible Noise-"
"Scout One! Scout One!" screamed McCauley.
"I don't care what it takes get a transmission to Blake's forces and let them know the ComGuards are here, if you're not required to help in the evacuation of the base personnel or send that transmission. Move you arse into the mech bay. We get to fight the rear guard," he growled.
"Sir, the rear guard is suicide all we have is a few industrial mechs and your Tarantula," mumbled a tech on the other side of the room.
"Glad were on the same page Adept Jorgenson," he said grinning. "Now move you lazy excuses for warriors!"
The gaggle of Adepts and Technicians raced down the narrow hall. When they reached the hangar the techs were already pulling away the fuel lines and preparing to make a run for the dropships secreted in the hills 300 meters north of the base.
"Good day to die sir," grunted the tech that was waiting with his neuro-helmet at the top of the mechs cradle.
"Sword of Blake be with you Sean," was his only reply as he took his neuro-helmet and hopped into the seat of the Tarantula.