A ray of light fell through the tent's entrance. It was small, and not even very intense, but it woke Thrira up nevertheless. She groaned and shut her viewports. She felt somewhat nauseous, and regretted every single drop of high octane fuel that she had consumed the night before. How did she even get back into her tent? She certainly couldn't remember. But she would figure it out later. As she was about to try to go back to sleep, she suddenly realised that she shouldn't be sleeping at all. How late was it? She was supposed to be somewhere at sunrise. Flinching, she immediately set herself into motion. Or at least that was what she tried to do. There was a scraping noise and resistance. She stopped and looked around confusedly. To her left and to her right, there were two sleeping tanks.
"Hey!" Thrira shouted. "What are you guys doing in here?! Get out!"
The Cromwells twitched, woken up by her yelling. Their turrets spun around as they tried to figure out where they were, then they looked at Thrira. One of them seemed to remember something and he raised his cannon to protest.
"You complained that you were cold!"
The other one nodded eagerly.
"That's right! Sy and I were just-"
Thrira sighed theatrically.
"Whatever, we gotta get a move on! It's already past sunrise, we were supposed to show up at the headquarters ages ago!"

They manoeuvred themselves outside tent that was decidedly too small for three tanks. Driving up to the tent next to it, they heard loud snoring and knew right away that the Comet had slept in too. Thrira poked her cannon inside and fired at the ground. There was a yelp. The T20 and the Cromwells started snickering.
"Are you trying to get me killed?" the Comet's scandalised voice could be heard from the inside.
"Get up, sleepyhead! We're late!" Thrira said. She backed up and the Comet emerged from the tent. He looked like he was feeling the after-effects of the high octane fuel as well. He threw a drowsy look at the other tanks, then his expression grew alarmed.
"Right!" he gasped. "Oh boy, we're in trouble…!"
"Well they didn't come for us yet so maybe not" Thrira noted with a shrug. "But we shouldn't waste any more time nevertheless."

The Comet nodded gravely and the four tanks started hurrying to the headquarters. There were several tanks standing outside the big tent, talking to each other. Thrira recognised them as tanks that arrived with them. Some curious looks were thrown at the quartet as they made their way inside the tent, which was full of tanks as well. One of them turned its turret towards them as they entered, and then tilted its cannon.

"About time!" the M103 said. He gave Thrira and the others a stern look as they drove closer.
"Sorry…" the Comet mumbled. He looked the most crestfallen of the four.
"We got held up" Thrira said.
The M103 frowned.
"Everyone's been waiting for you." he said. The Cromwells threw guilty looks at the ground, and the Comet fidgeted, looking like he expected to be beheaded every moment. But it seemed like there weren't going to be any repercussions, as the M103 went on in a less strict tone.
"As you probably know, you will be sent on a mission to transport fuel. T20, you will lead the transport. You are going to travel to a camp of prospectors and deliver fuel to them. There's two trucks who carry the fuel, and a guide who will show you the way. If you get attacked and any of them die, you will be held responsible."
Thrira nodded dutifully.
"Understood."
"It will take you roughly ten hours to get to the camp. Once you delivered the fuel, return to New Perth. We have a lot of other work for you when you're done with your current mission."
"Yessir."
"That is all. Good luck."

The four tanks saluted and drove outside again. Thrira took a look at the present tanks. There were six others. The two trucks that the M103 had been talking about were there as well. The T20 fired into the air to get their attention.
"Good morning, I'm Thrira and I'll be leading this transport." she said as everyone was looking at her. "Who of you is the guide?"
One of the tanks raised his cannon.
"I am."
Thrira nodded and gestured at him.
"We're departing. Lead the way."

The tank turned around and drove ahead; the others followed in a loose formation. Thrira, the Comet, and the Cromwells drove after the little crowd. They made their way eastward until they reached the border of the town, which was fortified by barricades. Thrira marvelled at the the wooden walls. They were about three meters tall and seemed to enclose the whole town. The guide lead them to a big gate and talked to the two tanks that were guarding it. They nodded and opened the gate. As the group had gone through it, it was closed again.
"What's the point of these? I bet a tank could easily break them if it rams them at full speed." one of the Cromwells said with a tilted cannon.
"I wouldn't be so sure about that…they look pretty massive to me" the Comet said thoughtfully.
"Yeah, you're only gonna break your glacis!" the other Cromwell added. His friend pouted.
"You don't know unless you try." he said defiantly.
"We're not gonna try" the Comet intervened.
"I didn't say we were going to!" the Cromwell defended himself, his pout deepening. The Comet gave him a wary side-glance.
"I'm just making sure…" he said.
Thrira chuckled.
"Pff. You're acting like tier ones" she said. The Cromwells shrugged with broad grins; only the Comet looked slightly offended, but he didn't try to refute the claim. Thrira chuckled again, then changed the subject.
"Aaron, you should go and scout ahead" she decided, looking at the Cromwell. He didn't look thrilled, but nodded and drove off. Thrira turned to the other Cromwell next. "And you, Sy, should make sure no one's following us."
"Yes ma'am!"
The addressed tank saluted with a big grin and let himself fall back.

Thrira sighed.
"Ten hours, huh?" she said to the Comet and looked ahead, where there was nothing but scrubland as far as she could see. "I'm already bored."
The Comet hummed pensively.
"How about Blind Arty?" he asked. Thrira's expression brightened.
"Sounds good. You start."

xxx

When Striker came to, his turret hurt like hell, and he felt a big dent on it. His mind was spinning. It took him a moment to see clearly. Prodigy was still in front of him, but completely motionless. His hull was covered in rubble, but one piece of said rubble stood out especially: the metal bar that was sticking out of the top of his turret and had effectively impaled him. Striker's optics grew wide. He nudged the heavy tank, but nothing moved.

"Crap..." he hissed. That wasn't good. In fact, it was very bad in many ways.

His engine howled as he tried to back up, then push, then back up again, but he was wedged between his dead leader's hull and the debris behind him.

"God dammit!"

His cannon sank in defeat. He noticed movement in the corner of his optics and turned his turret, fearing that an enemy could have followed them inside. But a ray of light revealed one of Striker's team mates, a Jackson, who stared at him with an aghast expression.

"It's not my fault!" Striker shouted immediately, his gaze darting back and forth between the living and the dead team mate. The Jackson seemed to be at a loss of words.
"Is he…?" he asked cautiously.
Striker grimaced.
"Well, duh!"
Looking at the wreck for a moment longer, the tank destroyer eventually turned to his radio.
"Striker fucked up again." he said, "Fucked up really bad."
"I did not!" the T20 whined. "I didn't force him to come here!"

The Jackson ignored his protest and started trying to push the rubble aside to free him. On the radio, the voices of the others asked what happened. Some of them connected the dots, taking into account the fact that they had seen and heard part of the factory collapse and Prodigy's and Striker's suspicious silence afterwards.

"Proddy is scrap metal." the Jackson explained.

"And I didn't do anything!" Striker continued trying to defend himself. He couldn't let the others get the idea that he was in any way responsible for their leader's death…otherwise he would be in deep trouble. The problem with that was that everyone knew that the T32 had gone after Striker to back him up (and of course also to give him a proper talking to, but that was an entirely different matter). It could definitely give someone the impression that it was Striker's fault that he was dead now.

«Honestly, we should just kick him already…» one of his team mates said.
"Shut up!" Striker snapped. There was a collective murmur on the radio channel. Some of the voices sounded agreeing. Striker glared at the ground anxiously.
"Try moving now" the Jackson said. He had managed to push aside some of the rubble, but there were also heavier pieces of metal that he couldn't move. Striker took his attention off the radio for a moment and started another attempt at backing up. He braced himself against the debris. At first it seemed like it would yield, but then it piled up and the T20 was trapped all the same. The Jackson tilted his turret.
"I think we'll be better off moving the wreck." he stated pensively.
Striker nodded. Further negative comments on the radio were absent as another one of his team mates showed up to help with moving Prodigy's body. Even the T29 had some trouble pulling the heavy tank, but eventually Striker was free. The three of them left the factory cautiously, this time not acting like a bull in a china shop. The rest of the team had gathered outside, as the battle was already over. All optics were on their dead leader and the T20 who threw defensive glances at the crowd. There was a certain kind of tension in the air. Striker noticed that one of his team mates had a different expression however. It was something like a smirk. Before the T20 could think about it too much, he heard a whisper on his private radio channel.

«Well done, it was about time that fucker bit the dust.»
Striker averted his gaze.
"It wasn't my…ugh." he replied. He was already tired of repeating himself to people who didn't want to listen. At least he now had confirmation of what he had only suspected so far: there were others who hadn't been all too fond of their leader. In fact, as he looked around once again, he realised that not all the expressions looked as incredibly affected as on first glance. Maybe that meant that if there was a vote whether it was his fault or not, he would have a chance.

The silence was interrupted by the T29 coming forward.

"So, who else is dead?" he asked. They did a quick roll call, and concluded that two more of their team mates had died during the battle. Which wasn't a bad result. They would find replacements soon enough. Actually, an unfamiliar tank was now among them. Striker guessed that it was a survivor of the other team. The T29 went on.

"We need a new leader." he said, addressing the most important issue at the moment. The others nodded, but no one said anything, apart from some of them whispering comments to each other. The T29's turret turned slowly as he looked around. "I nominate myself as the new leader" he said eventually. Everyone looked at him now, and Striker knew that he wasn't happy about this proposal. The T29 was one of the tanks whom he didn't really get along with well. But he was one of their strongest tanks, and a quick glance at the others revealed agreeing expressions. Prodigy had often relied on the other heavy's advice, so it was hardly a surprise that the T29 would think that he had a realistic chance of becoming his successor. He was also aggressive and respected enough to be eligible.

"Is anyone against me being the leader?" the T29 asked, "Those who are will either speak up now or deal with it." The others shook their cannons. "Alright." the heavy said. He turned to Striker, who looked back at him questioningly. The T20 knew that something wasn't right when the T29's expression turned to a condescending frown.

"As the new leader, I kick Striker from the team."

Striker gasped and stared at the other tank.
"W-What!" he shouted.
"You heard me." the T29 said coolly.
"But- I didn't-"
The T29 cut him off.
"It's not about that. It's because I have no use for a loudmouthed brat who has no concept of authority."
Striker fell silent. His gaze darted across the other tanks as if he expected them to say something in his defence, but everyone was quiet. Instead, some of them grinned. He looked at the T29 again.
"You can't just kick me! I'm your best fighter!"
"That's subjective" the T29 rumbled. "Now scram!"

There was the sound of guns being loaded, and Striker realised that it was time to do as he was told for once. He cursed and and raced off.