The Gallian countryside was quiet, most of the people asleep in their beds. Shell craters and pockmarked walls were small hints of the fierce fighting that had taken place mere days ago. The empty streets came to life as the steady growl of engines interrupted the quiet. Paired lights stabbed through the darkness, illuminating the sillhouettes of bulky Imperial combat uniforms and machine guns.
Cezary Regard bounced uncomfortably in his seat as the command car rattled down the dirt road. A chain bound his right hand to the wall of the open cabin; a helmeted guard sat behind him, a rifle across his knees. "Captured with a bunch of stinking Darcsens..." he muttered darkly around his bruised face.
"Quiet you," the guard barked, punctuating the remark with a none-too-gentle dig from the rifle butt.
Cezary hissed as fire ran down his back from his broken ribs. So much for sympathy with another member of the "master race" he thought sardonically. "Can I ask where we're headed?"
"To hell, along with all the other dark hairs we're hauling along."
Cezary stiffened despite his injured side. "Watch it. I'm no Darcsen."
The driver laughed. "Anyone we catch fighting with those oily haired bastards playing soldier is a Darcsen-lover. Far as I'm concerned, that makes you worse'n them." Regard glared balefully in response. He opened his mouth to deliver a scathing comeback when he noticed a sudden glint in a nearby window. The insult and his injured side were all forgotten as he came to the sudden realization it was a rifle scope. Damn!
Cezary ducked as the sniper's bullet crashed through the driver's helmet with a wet slap. The car abruptly accelerated as the driver's form went suddenly limp, careening off the road into a shallow ditch. A lamppost filled the windshield as the vehicle was crashed to a bone-rattling stop. As Cezary groaned from his place on the floor, the guard scrambled to his feet, racking the command car's machine gun and lighting up the night with frantic bursts.
Cezary unceremoniously grabbed the driver's corpse, tearing at his belt for a weapon of some kind. His seeking fingers encountered a pistol, dragging it free of its blood-spattered holster. A burst of incoming fire forced the Imperial guard duck away from the gun mounting, nearly landing on top of Regard. Cezary reflexively fired, the guard's body muffling the gunshot. He cursed as he worked his way out from under the armored weight, dragging himself upright.
He bent over the guard's prone form. "Let's get one thing straight," he hissed venomously. "I hate dark hairs, but I hate scum like you even more." The ex-prisoner patted him down, neatly pulling the handcuff keys out of the man's pocket.
Cezary raised the pistol but wavered, trying to decide whether to finish the damned Imp or not. His ruminations were brought to a screeching halt as another bullet slammed into the seat an inch from his head. Cezary yelped as he fell ignominiously out of the car, crawling into some shrubbery to wait out the rest of the battle.
Edy Nelson gleefully sprayed the convoy with her Mags, a stream of brass tinkling about her feet. Slamming a new magazine home, she rushed the stopped trucks, sweeping the tarp from the rearmost machine. "Out of this smelly truck, darlings!" she trilled, pausing to gun down an advancing convoy guard. Down the entire convoy, a steady rattle of automatic fire and the occasional crash of a grenade signified the other Sevens making short work of the stalled vehicles.
"Eek!" Edy dropped behind the truck as red tracers snarled past. She went stock still and as the dull growl of an Imperial armored car heading her way reached her. With a smirk, Edy pulled a grenade from her belt and prepared to charge the vehicle. Finally a chance to show up Corporal Stark!
As she jumped out from behind the truck bed, a familiar red headed figure rushed past. Rosie crossed the distance to the vehicle in seconds and jammed her Mags into the nearest view port. A few deafening bursts found their mark in the crew as the vehicle shuddered to a halt. She glanced quickly inside. "Yeah! Rosie, 1, Imps, 0."
No! I hate that woman! Does she get off on stealing my show? Nelson seethed internally as the red headed corporal turned back to face her.
"Good job there kiddo," she said affectionately as she ruffled the shorter woman's silver hair. Plastering a sugary smile on her face, Edy replied. "Oh, it was nothing compared to you Miss Stark. It-" Her words were cut off as a cobalt blue blast rocked the truck. Not bothering to wait and see who had thrown the grenade, both women took to their heels in opposite directions, back into the fight.
Zaka stayed low to the ground as he crawled up to a truck in the convoy, edging close to the driver's side. Checking his captured ZM MP, he slowly stood up and peered into the open window. The nervous-looking driver was curled up on his seat, clutching a pistol to his chest.
"Surrender!" he barked, swinging the muzzle to cover the driver. The man whirled with a startled scream as he reflexively fired out the window. The shot went wild and the Darcsen reluctantly emptied a burst into the Imperial, killing him instantly. Zaka grimaced at the sight of the gore-soaked cab. "What a waste..." He took a few steps to the canvas-covered truck bed and deftly undid the fasteners.
The world flashed as a wrench connected with the side of his head and a viselike arm encircled his neck. He struggled futilely in the chokehold, head spinning as his vision swam. Then he was free, sliding out onto the floor, gasping for breath.
A familiar shape bent over him, adjusting his glasses in concern. Zaka massaged his neck, looking reproachfully at his friend. "Not a very nice welcome Wavy," he croaked.
"Er... sorry about that," the former schoolteacher said awkwardly. He gestured at the other huddled forms in the back of the truck. "We thought it would be best to help out whoever was attacking the convoy by-"
"Killing them?" Zaka asked wryly as he sat up. "You too missy," he said, pointing an accusing finger at the embarrassed figure clutching the wrench.
Nadine fidgeted as she replied, hiding the spanner behind her back. "Isara taught me how to do that, so when I found this wrench..." She trailed off. "Sorry."
Zaka rubbed at the sore spot on his head, hissing in pain as his hand came away smeared with blood. "Well, never mind that. Let me tell you what's going on." The other Darcsens in the truck crowded around as he spread a map on a bench and shined his light on it. "Captain Varrot wants us to escort all POW's we find to the farm here," he said, jabbing a finger at a red circle on the map. I think Welkin and the rest of the Sevens are setting up some diversion some ways down the road to cover us."
He folded the map back up and tucked it back into the case around his neck. "You don't need to concern yourselves with that though. Just follow us and you'll be fine." Zaka straightened as the firing outside died slowly away. "That's our cue."
Heinrich groaned as the sounds of battle gradually died on the street. The wound was not serious; the Darcsen-lover's bullet had only grazed his side. But playing dead left a nasty taste in his mouth, and he shuddered to think of what his father, the consummate image of Imperial nobility, would say if he could see that little stunt... but for now, his concern was surviving the battle. Heinrich hopped out and nearly doubled over as his side exploded with pain from the impact. Panting with exertion, he begun to hobble down the road. Maybe it was worse than he had thought. He would definitely need to have that looked at when he got back to camp.
The Imperial guardsman breathed a sigh of relief as he reached the trees. He would wait here for the relief column to show up, and that would be that. No more-
Something flew past his face. Heinrich reflexively looked down, and for a second thought he had been shot, small rivulets of red trickling down his armor. His attempt at words produced only gurgles, his mouth filling with the coppery taste of blood. Heinrich's legs gave out from underneath him as he clutched vainly at his open neck. He looked about sluggishly for the unseen attacker and saw a slim blade, blood dripping from the narrow tip. He fought to raise his head as he attempted to identify his killer... Heinrich's eyes flashed with recognition at his assailant, then went blank for the last time as he collapsed to the dirt.
…General Bles?