"Set down about seventy klicks out from the outpost."
"Yessir." said the dropship pilot, her voice conveyed nothing, but her face, her face revealed it all. She was worried, and for good reason, this was a Sons of Korhal outpost. And coming on the base without fighter support would worry all but my soldiers, but she wasn't trained like us. Looking back at my soldiers all I saw was grim determination, a desire to live, to blow the scum off the universe's radar.
"All right boys and girls, we are the Confederacy's best. You know the drill, Ghosts will disable the main targets, and we sweep in and blow them out of the water. Any questions?"
"Sir?" said a young ghost by the name of Sanderea, odd name if you ask me, but anyway.
"Yes?"
"What is the main target?" she asked. Of course, her, of all people to ask! But one mustn't ignore your soldiers, or they won't respect you.
"It's on a need to know basis, I'll tell you when you need to know. Right now just remember taking out the southeast's side tank's and Goliaths, if you do that then you've done good, I'll tell you all after we do that." She would ask that wouldn't she?
***
"Sir?" asked a young commander. He was about twenty-five to twenty-seven, he already had grey in his beard, tall and gaunt, he had sunken cheeks with high cheek bones. The eyes were blood shot from the recent activity on the base. "What are our new order's?"
"Protect the northwest corner."
"But sir! That leaves only a skeleton crew at the Southeast corner! And they aren't even combat veterans! All they have is twenty-two sim. hours under their collective belts! They barely joined a week ago!"
"I know, now go!" yelled the commander as the man left his office. He was a man who looked like he had fought against being overweight all his life, but just now the war had ended, he hadn't won, but he hadn't lost either. At age thirty-four he looked like a forty year old man. His head had streaks of grey in his hair, but his beard was a dull grey. He had a ragged look about him, more a feeling than an actual look. He rubbed a long scar emanating from his hair down to his chin. He sighed, he knew Duson was coming, his informant had said so. He was ready this time. Top Arc wasn't getting him this time, he vowed. "Your head will be on my wall Duson!"
***
"Here will be fine." he said to the Dropship pilot. He turned around and talked to his team as the Dropship landed. "Alright soldiers saddle up! We move out in five minutes, I want all the equipment tied to your Vultures. We ride until we find a suitable place for camp!" Duson walked around as his men saddled up. Sanderea was the first one done. "Well done. Alright men, we move out in one minute! If anything flies off, its not just his fault its all our fault! That means sober for a whole week!" An audible groan was heard from the team. Another groan was heard from the Dropship as it lifted off, its anti-grav. boosters pushing against the ground until the thrusters in the back kicked in. Its black covering absorbing any radar wave that came its way, just another bird in the sky. The Vulture hummed to life underneath him, its anti-grav. engines having no trouble lifting him, the Vulture, and the camp equipment strapped on the back off the ground. He looked at the twenty-five men and women under his command. "Move out!" he yelled as he matched word to action.
***
Far Side of Alpha Theta
"Man! This is getting boring." said a tank's gunner as he yawned.
"Commander Ilison knows what he's doing." said the driver.
"Hey! I just remembered!" said the gunner as he stood up and reached in his shirt pocket, and came out with some cards. "My grandpa taught me how to play two-handed spades. You take one card and throw away the other, then the other person does it. You first look at your first card, you decide wether you want it or not, if not put it in a pile-"
An explosion rocked the tank.
"Get to your station!" yelled the driver as he hopped in his seat. He pressed the power button, flipped the switch to allow gunnery control to another, pulled down what looked like a periscope viewfinder, and looked around. In reality it was just a camera atop the tank, as he rolled a knob on the viewfinder the camera rotated, just in time to see a missile come screaming toward them. He flinched, nothing. He looked through the viewfinder, static. The lights had gone out too.
"Sir, my systems are shut down."
"Mine too." A gun cock was heard. "Sir, permission to go outside?"
"Granted." he grabbed his 9mm semi-auto pistol, grabbed his chest strap and threw it on. He also pulled out a 10 gauge shot gun, put on another chest strap and went outside. Similarly the other tank gunners and drivers were out.
"Hey!" yelled a tank commander from across the field. "This seems like a Lockdown missiles work!"
"Yea-" his sentence was cut short, on the account of a 7.5mm rifle bullet creating a rather large hole in his head and expanding his brain matter out that hole.
"Holy Crap!" yelled one, the soldiers, only having pistols, fired randomly and without effect. A tank's gunner grabbed the 10 gauge and hopped back in the tank, praying. After a while and some more brain matter on the ground the firing stopped leaving only one Sons of Korhal soldier alive. Ghosts materialized out of thin air.
"Dang! One almost got me! Screwed up my rifle." said one, throwing the rifle at a tank, a small hole in the chamber.
"Lets go!"
The lockdown had worn off leaving a small camera working with a man at the controls alive, he wouldn't fire. No! Living through this would guarantee promotion!
***
"We'll pitch camp here." Duson commanded.
"Yes, sir!"
"I want perimeter patrols five klicks out from here! I want all equipment set up at 2300 hours! Sanderea, you will take the first shift of patrol with two men and then, Tom, Allix, me then repeat, select you men, and go!"
***
Two Hours Later at 2245 hours
"Sir, all equipment set up!"
"Alright, I want the radar up and running, set up some natural defensive position, and the computer and com unit bettered be working." said Duson. He walked into the main tent and all was well. He walked back out, the fifth group was set to go out. He got everyone's attention by clearing his throat, "Men, we will move on the base at 0400 hours, I would advise all to get some rest before we go. Sanderea, Tom, and Allix come in the main tent. Jorge! Take this perimeter group!"
"Are you sure sir?" asked Jorge.
"Positive." he said as he walked into the main tent. "Alright, you know that each one of you controls six men. Sanderea, you will take you group in first naturalize all mechs and signal with a green flare for us to come in. If something goes wrong and we need to retreat send up a blue flare. If you need pick up send up a red flare. That goes for us all. Now after all mechs are gone, Tom, come in and hit the bunkers around the command center. Allix, you will hit the Barracks, Starports, and Factories. My team will infiltrate the base and kill the command crew. After twelve hours of us starting this operation a second group of Ghosts and SCVs will come in and secure the area and appropriate any civilians into the Confederacy. Any questions?"
"Sir, what happens if we fail?" asked Allix.
"We then try to get one soldier back here to signal the Ghosts and SCVs not to come. Now get some rest, we'll wake up at 0230."
***
"Sir! We have a transmission from," said Ilison as he looked a small piece of paper in his hands, "An El Furtivo Defecto, he says, la agiula volutad clavar antes albor."
"Good! Now order my elite team to set up inside this complex."
***
0315 At the Confederacy's Base
"We will be moving out to head to the base in fifteen minutes, I want guns loaded clips on chest straps, chest straps on, and Vultures running!" yelled Duson as he did a last minute oiling of his Canister Rifle. He put his rifle back together again, slung it on his back, and walked to his Vulture. He put his thumb on the I.D. pad and pressed the on button. He checked his watch, it was an old fashioned watch, from around 2005. It had the University of Arkansas printed in the background, the minute hand had a Razorback on it with it and the hour with a football, the second hand had a tennis shoe, for the track team, and for how fast it was. "Move out!" yelled Duson over the roar of the engines, and twenty-six vultures screamed away from their encampment, just in time also... a trio of Zerglings came to the camp and immediately contacted the nearest overlord of the camp.