To everyone that read my previous stories, Heron Blue and The Aftermath, I apologize. I just got a laptop and when I logged in, the stories were somehow deleted. Besides the fact that I was completely pissed off at that, I also felt bad because so many of you guys enjoyed it. So, I've decided to write a new one. However, it's not tied to the previous two stories.
Prologue
"This isn't good, sir." Stated Donneld Mathieson as he rolled his wheelchair next to Hoffman. "Five Stranded attacks in this week alone."
"Unbelievable…" grumbled Hoffman. He took off his hat and rubbed his head. "If it's not one shit storm, it's another." He sighed, "Who was all involved in the explosion?"
Mathieson opened a file, which rested on his lap, and read through Hayman's report. "Padrick Salton, two Pesangs, and a couple of civilians. Pad has a dislocated shoulder and mild burns, and one of the Pesangs and a little girl are in Hayman's ICU. The rest are in stable conditions."
Hoffman gritted his teeth and uttered a curse. The wars are finally over…Why are we still fighting?
"We have every on duty soldier on double and triple shifts, sir." Mathieson's words broke through Hoffman's train of thought. "I hate to tell you this sir, but we can't keep on like this. We'll end up wearing our troops out and risk the possibility of getting more people killed."
"I know, damn it." Hoffman replied. He took a deep breath and looked through the various reports scattered around on the desk.
Mathieson looked up at him and noticed the stressed, tired look in his face. It was times like these when Mathieson wished his legs had never been amputated. The time he spent calling out directions or orders from the CIC was time that he could have been out there as a part of the force. The bastard's are attacking from every angle and I can't do jack shit to help them… No. Mathieson shook his head. Negative thinking wasn't going to help the situation. If anything, it was going to make it worse.
"What do you plan to do, sir?" asked Mathieson.
Hoffman turned to him. When he didn't answer, Mathieson continued, "I mean no disrespect, sir, but if the assholes in command executed the proper evac procedures on the cities targeted by the Hammer of Dawn, among other things, we wouldn't be having this problem."
Hoffman stared at the Lieutenant. Well, he did have a point. The Stranded were six feet deep in acidic hate for the COG because of the Hammer Strikes and the sinking of Jacinto. Of course, some were happy that the remainders of the COG were attempting to help them out, and didn't make any complaints whenever Gears like Jace Stratton and Dizzy Wallin asked for trades. However, Stranded like Lyle Ollivar were the type the world would be better off without. But there wasn't anything that could fix the wrongs of yesterday.
"You're right, Donneld." Hoffman said with finality. "Get Azura on the line… we're gonna need backup for this."
"Yes sir."