Disclaimer: Consider this very disclaimed.
A/N: Enjoy chapter 2
The Kushan sunrise was an awe inspiring sight. The cold night would slowly give way to pale grey, before in a matter of seconds, sunlight would seem set the sky itself alight. Sunlight would refract off of dust thrown high into the stratosphere and below by sandstorms and explosions. Deep burgundy would blossom at the edge of the visual spectrum and dance its merry way over the crimsons, cherice, gold, tan and eventually end a deep, base orange. The colours would waver and fade and switch back upon itself. This would then fade as the sun rose, preparing to bake the sands once more.
This amazing sight happened at oh-five-hundred hours, when the only people truely awake where the mechanics and operational planners. The REMF that took perverse plesure at being up at ungodly hours to smear into the faces of hardcore front-liners... or those that actually went out of their way to witness the spectacle.
And Kristaan thought it was well worth it. She sat knees crossed on the frontal glacis plate of 'Idiosyncratic', most of its crew still blissfully unawares inside, and smiled to herself.
'Life was good...' and with that done and out of the way, she got up and scrambled to the commander's open cupola. She took a moment and peered around the base. The Northern Coalition base. There was little blurbs of activity. The start of a LAV here, the testing of a Cruisers gun traverse mechanism there. But otherwise, the early morning was still.
She then turned back and eyed Commander Hillivan lounging through the hatch. In his hands where a datapad, and his eyes where furrowed beneath his long, dark hair and commander's cap.
"You missed the sunrise." She stated, curious as to what the man was doing. He didn't look up.
"I know. It's the same as always. You are up early." The way he said it made Kristaan want to have a good excuse. He excreted leadership from his very pores. But then he flicked his eyes to her and broke into a massive, shit-eating grin.
"You look like you had a night of especially rough sex. Coffee?" He reached over and held out a big square flask up towards her. She growled and tried to tame her hair. It tended to act unpredictably if she slept with her hood on. She found a mag-scrunchie and corralled it into a passable ponytail.
She accepted the coffee after realising it was still held out in offering.
"Do you always have to be an ass, or do you just take special pains for me?" Hillivan's grin grew.
"Oh, I go a long way to make sure I'm a total ass to everyone. I don't want to disappoint them, now do I?"
She gave him an incredulous look, as she tentatively supped at the coffee.
It was good, but not hot enough. It dissappeared in a few gulps and then passed it back. Hillivan snagged it and placed it away. He turned and looked at the datapad.
Curiosity got the better of her.
"Whats that?" Hillivan chuckled.
"Too early to play spy, Kristaan Gaalsien'Sa'Ka." He gave a soft chuckle, mindful of the sleeping occupants. Kristaan gave an indignant huff.
"I wasn't going to, Jackass. I'm... just curious is all." She had her arms crossed now. It sounded lame even in her own ears.
"They just tactical analysis reports from the regular forces. Want to see what they know that we don't, and where reports don't line up with ours as a favour for the Admiral. Wanna help?" Something seemed to twist and snap into place as she realised how deep in she actually was. Her family. Friends. The mirror gardens at home. That little fountain in the park everyone was so very, very proud of...
She'd either never see it again or see it from the vantage point of this AAV's command cupola. She'd either never see her family or see them escorted past at the end of Assault rifles. They'd never look at her with kind eyes again. She'd never experience a kind hug from Khagaan again...
'Khagaan is literally going to try and kill me.'
Kristaan broke down in a pitiful display of snivelling tears. She sat down hard and brought her knees up. The fact that she may never see her family again on good terms finally smashing home with the horsepower of an expedition carrier.
Hillivan's head poked out the cupola. His arms came up and he folded them and rested his head on them, head quirked at an angle.
"Okay. No reports then?" Kristaan gave a watery blub as a response.
"May I ask what you got against my paperwork?"Hillivan watched Kristaan for a long moment or three.
"Not... not the stupid reports y... you fucking ass!" She attempted an angry glare but her eyes where too red and her face fell too quickly.
"It sucks having a disapproving family, doesn't it?" Hillivan still hadn't moved to comfort her in any way.
"What the fuck do you know!?" She shouted. Hillivan's eyes hardened.
"My crew are asleep. Keep it down." She opened her mouth.
"You can take your crew and-" Hillivan had a hand clamped down over her mouth. It was hard and unforgiving and felt more akin to a steel trap. He was leaning awkwardly out of the cupola on his stomach, hands outstretched. His eyes were flinty and hard as diamond.
"I said keep it down. Rant all you want, but my crew gets up when I wake them, not by a noble brat who mourns a family that no longer cares..." the words where harsh and cold and stung deep because they where true even though they where all but whispered. Her eyes hardened and she wrenched his hand away.
"You know nothing. Is a person not allowed to mourn?" Her whisper was laced with venom and contempt. Hillivan shrugged.
"Yes. You are allowed. But this is a war, Kristaan. This is a war and there is loss. But my crew need their sleep. They have a war to fight and I will not deprive them of any of their hard won sleep. They will be, in fact, keeping you alive." He seemed satisfied.
'...he's on the turret with me.' And sure enough Hillivan was now sitting next to her distraught form with the hatch sitting behind him. She belatedly realised how fluidly this man moved around the AAV.
She bit off a childish jab at his crew. She was more mature than that. He made valid points. She was more mature than that... He made valid points... over and over like some mantra just to avoid more fighting. She was oh, so tired of fighting already.
"As I said. I know how it feels. I am offering my sympathies and condolences..." It was sandblasted near impossible to stay angry at this man. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and gave him a small quirk of the lips.
"...Okay. Thank you, Commander. I apologise for my behaviour and ask that it not reflect on my Kiith or family." Her spine straightened and her bearing became... formal. Her already stiff vocabulary gained another level of inflexibility.
"Oh tish-tosh. Stow that gab. I provoked and so I'll owe you one, hows that?" Kristaan gave Hillivan an unreadable look. A long, probing and silent look.
"What are you?" She finally gave way.
Hillivan gave another shit-eating grin and stood up.
"I am but a flotilla commander of Kiith Manaan. Life enthusiast and lover of a proper, orderly mind." He said grandly as he dropped back into the cupola.
She sighed and looked away to the massive fifty millimeter gun sticking out the front of the AAV's turret.
Kiith Manaan indeed.
She reached into one of her newly acquired pockets and took out breakfast.
'Maybe food will help.'
-0-
"Princess, we're moving out. We don't APC as a rule. Mind shacking in the Commander's throne again?" Zoltan's scruffy face was poked out some side hatch between the massive tracks. Her eyes had cleared and she had her emotions in check. Hopefully.
"Certainly. ETD?" She called as she ambled over to the commander's hatch. She peered through. Hillivan was with Dirnkik at the rear. They where discussing something intently.
"Sorta... nowish. Konran wants to be gone. We go." Kristaan raised an eyebrow as she settled into the commander's seat. It felt... wierd. But not wrong. Like a new shirt or pants.
"He's angsty to be driving, and so we drive?" Konran's foot was tapping out a staccato beat on the accelerator.
The inhabitants of the Idiosyncratic nodded as one.
"Its a thing. Keeps us out of trouble." She looked over at Dirnkik. He had the look of someone giving sage advice.
"Listen to Konran when he says to move. It just is. Like survival instincts, if you will." Kristaan just nodded and watched the AAV work like a well oiled machine without a commander.
Hillivan motioned to the radio over Dirnkik's shoulder.
'... why must I use... oh, Commander's have to free vehicles to the desert.'
She picked it up like it would crawl with sandvipers if shaken too roughly.
"Channel five. Request for Exfil or Unscheduled Release. Codename is-"
"I did have a flight of Sandskimmers under my command, Sir. I am competent. " She gave a suffering sigh.
"Delta Mike zero one to tower, Delta Mike zero one to tower, requesting unscheduled release, over."
"This is Bravo Oscar Charlie. Where is... the other guy? Over."
"Currently occupied. Are we cleared for Exfil, over."
"Sheesh. Yes yes. Exfil through gate zero two. Expect traffic, over."
"Understood. Delta Mike zero one over and out." Kristaan shot a look at Konran. He was already gunning for the second gate.
Kristaan settled in and took a page from Hillivan's book, scanning around. The vehicles where truly amazing. Cruisers with track systems bigger than the Idiosyncratic. Boxy Nabaal varients of the AAV. The LAV designed and tested by the same Kiith that sat high and proud beside some of them.
Then she heard it. A grinding, pounding beat drumming into the very fabric of reality.
She whirled her screen around and gaped.
It was... massive. Slightly bigger than even Gaalsien carriers. It glided proud and uncaring past as lesser vehicles scrambled out of its path.
Flanked by some Baserunner or other and a small flotilla of LAV's, it parked in a holding pattern before the massive sand-doors.
She watched as they trundled past. When the carrier moved, the tracks hitting the reinforced concrete made a booming noise akin to localised thunder.
"The Fiiskire is a beautiful tub for sure, but the captain is rather disdainful of us meager mortals." Zoltan gave a small nod towards where it sat outside the hull, nose buried in a small square can of... something.
"Really?" She scrutinised the command island. Maybe she could see the Captain.
"Yup. Dash where we woul' be if Hillie 'd taken sha posht." Zoltan had his head turned upwards slightly and ws talking through a mouthful of something. Noodles, if the stray few still outside his mouth where any indication. The smell then reached her nose and her eyes watered.
"How spicy are those?" She motioned to his noodles. She immediately got child-like giggles from the entire crew.
"Ever hear of Sajan Reactor Fuel?" She gave a confused shake of her head towards Hillivan.
"Hottest hot sauce on the market. Konran uses it to strip the gears now and then." This was said with a grin that Kristaan couldn't take seriously.
"You are all insane." She said with certainty.
"You haven't even seen them bored!" Dirnkik called out. She turned in her chair and gave him the evil eye.
"I thought you the reason to their insanity?" He just looked up and flashed her a crooked smile.
"Bravo Oscar to Delta Mike, sand-doors opening. Good hunting out there. Over."
"Uhm... Thanks, Bravo Oscar. We are cleared of the doors. Over and out."
And the moment the tank treads went from the clacking racket of hard ground to the smooth swishing noise of fine desert sand, the atmosphere of the tank changed. The ammo belts rammed home and then disengaged. The front view plate smashed closed then was opened. The gun was spooled and held there for a belts worth of time. They rechecked everything once again, making it the fourth time from since earlier in the engineering bay.
Hillivan tapped her on the shoulder. He was hanging from a hand and foot on the handholds. She slipped off and made the small fall to the deck. It quivered, rolled and bucked as the AAV made its way over small dunes scattered around the flats.
"You might want to hold on to something or strap in when we hit the dunes proper." Hillivan called as he slid into his seat. After running some checks he went into the relentless looking around routine he had used as they drove in. Kristaan strapped in on a seat that could fold out behind Dirnkik. It wasn't very comfortable, but combat maneuvers over dunes left even some excitable Baserunners catching airtime... Experienced LAV drivers were known to compete with their air cover for airborne hours.
And Kristaan would happily bet a Cruiser to a Carrier thet these four fools were one of if not the best crews out there. It was in the way they held themselves. The way they meshed together. Maybe it was how they left absolutely nothing to chance or suspected everything. Or it could be how they treated it all with cavalier enthusiasm. Like it was a hobby
Memories flashed.
Maybe it was how they could encounter, nullify and or take apart a superior enemy with seemingly easy movements. The thought was bitter on her tounge.
They hit the first dune and there was a feeling of temporary weightlessness before the AAV smacked back onto sand. They arced up and there was another period of weightlessness. It continued as they rode deeper into the desert, across grain to the dunes.
-0-
"So boss. What did the Admiral say? What do we get ta' blow up?" Zoltan sounded excited. They'd stopped cutting the grain and now ran almost parallel. There where moments when they'd shift from leaning left to leaning right every few minutes as they scuttled up over the dune, but progress was good.
"Not alot. Three things, actually." Hillivan leaned back from the screen and rubbed his eyes. Dirnkik and Zoltan gave an inscrutable look towards their superior.
"Tha's not alot." Zoltan seemed disappointed.
"Ah, but the size all makes up for it." The inscrutable look morphed to one of borderline childish glee.
"Production cruisers?" Dirnkik asked, interest piqued.
"Nuh uh. Bigger." There was a collective intake of breath.
"We're going after carriers!? Sir. Thats inadvisable, with current forces we'd take out two at best before getting ground into the sand!" Dirnkik said with an air of finality as he turned back to his nav-screen.
"So that's why we'll be getting help. Konran, thoughts?"
"No bad feelings, per say. But I don't see what help would allow us to take on three carriers, Commander." Hillivan had that shit-eating grin mixed with cocky smirk on his lips.
"There you all go assuming I said Carriers."
'He's insane. Truely, utterly Suntouched.' Kristaan thought in abject horror/awe.
"That raises the odds, sir. But, smashing Gaalsien depots are death traps at best. We can't outrun the garrison." Dirnkik finally said with a frown.
"We will have to ensure there will be none to chase us then." The crew gave an overall sceptical look. Konran sighed.
"We keep doubting you, sir, and you keep going out of your way to prove us wrong each time." Hillivan nodded eagerly.
"I live to serve."
Kristaan just tightened her left shoulder strap, shifted slightly to remove a gouging hinge from her thigh and watched as the banter flew back and forth. She tried to connect these men to the almost detached way her entire wing of skimmers where... handled.
-0-
Reefik sat and watched. Long, straight and dark hair fell around piercing and attentive eyes. His lithe frame accentuated by gaunt cheeks and an oversized uniform, sash hanging limply over a scrawny chest.
His fingers where tapping a rapid beat on the firing triggers but he was patient. Reefik just sat and watched.
He peered at the targeting screen and adjusted the reticule aiming at the income AAV for the fiftieth time in maybe ten seconds, so the sweet spot that hung above and ever so slightly to the left that would put a rail-slug just above the front track arch. It would ricochet towards the back and up, smashing Konran's arms to mist, were he would bleed out in seconds, hit the far wall were it would cause a splash pattern of shrapnel that would kill Zoltan in the gunner seat and provide a ninety percent chance of severely maiming or killing Hillivan. The only relatively unaffected person would be Dirnkik in the Nav seat... maybe he could walk away blind or missing an arm or leg due to amputation?
'Perhaps an engine shot and bounce the entire round around inside?'
Reefik's fingers twitched involuntarily.
'No... Ammo. Rear track arch to insode edge. Detonate the standby HE magazine.'
Reefik's turret tracked, and the reticule shifted slightly. He flicked the comms and whispered into his headset.
"Zap. Spang. Boom. No more superiors."
There was a pause which probably translated into Hillivan laughing or desperately searching.
'Probably both.'
"And who is to say we weren't waiting for your capacitors to spool to pop smoke?" He definitely sounded amused.
A running gag in the 'Martins.
"You... wouldn't have seen it, Sir." Reefik's voice was just above a whisper. It was raspy and jagged, but also smooth in the same way stines where after a sandstorm. Worn... weathered.
"Uh huh? How far you out?" Hillivan's voice carried the ghost of a challenge. Reefik didn't even need to look at the Distance-to-target readout on a small extra screen, top-left. He'd stopped using that a long time ago. He, as always, checked anyway.
"Four point two. To your... eleven? Make that quarter to eleven." And reefik watched the oversized turret of the AAV swing his way. Not entirely on him, but close.
"Left a bit... Yeah, thats me." Reefik knew if he concentrated and turned the comm's volume way up, he'd hear Zoltan's muffled swearing.
"Sajuuk-damned rail aces. How can you even make that shot!? That man is Suntouched..." and so the rant went on.
Reefik felt the smile tug at his lips.
"Come on Noahan, lets get going. There was that rather advantageous outcropping I spotted yesterday. I think I marked it..."
Noahan just sighed and shook his head. The Manaan rail gun tank geared up and swiveled around.
"Wonder why the boss went to The Bom just for a day or two... whats the point?" Reefik's piercing eyes moved from the targeting screen to the back of Noahan's head. He finally gave an evasive 'I'm sure he'll tell us when he gets back to camp.'. Noahan didn't seem satisfied.
"Why ya' gotta be like so, mate?" He sat back heavily and gave his driver a inscrutable look.
"Ah, suck it up. Just keep your head on a swivel. That dust is bound to attract trouble." Reefik just rolled his eyes and traversed the gun forward.
"Contact the Lavvies. We're rolling. Where do ya' think trouble is?"
"They're probably already here... floats are funny like that." Noahan spat out an aggressive affirmative.
"Damn floats... They should all be sent on a walk through the Great Banded Desert. Waterless." Reefik held his tounge. There's only so much a man can say to that.
-0-
"Shard zero one this is Frostbite. We got an assault craft wave inbound on your position. Repeat, incoming floats. Heads up, over."
"Frostbite this is Shard zero one, we are aware. Any reason they out here, over."
"Bad news from the The Bom, Shard. These are part of some form of mop up, as far as comms can tell, over."
"Affirmative, Frostbite. They seem lost, ov-oh, Fidget one one is in the area, over."
There was a sigh.
"That must have been close. The attack started just after dawn... Frostbite over and out."
Reefik switched channels, and alerted Hillivan, mind still turning at what attack Frostbite could have meant. The man took it in his stride and the AAV altered course. Reefik eyed the new direction and gave a small smile when Reefik noticed where he would intercept the Assault wing, and hopefully draw them to a small series of larger dunes, perfect ambush site. Reefik could hang back on the ridge and provide cover while Crowbar three sprung an ambush.
The LAVs were already motoring to their positions, slower, as not to kick up excess dust.
Hillivan would need to stay the focus of fire and Reefik would need to land his shots if any of the LAV's had a hope of coming out on top. Three assault craft. A wing. With no skimmer cover either. This was either a long range patrol or the floats had gotten hopelessly overconfident. They where also probably betting on Sobanii manufactured opponents.
Reefik spooled the gun and that smile tugged at his lips.
"Hillivan's made contact. Be ready to jump in a few seconds..." there was a chorus of replies. Reefik watched the three heavily armoured attackers pause for a moment as they ran into Hillivan's retreating form. A handful of rounds where exchanged before Hillivan broke off and popped the orange crystalline smoke. It was alarmingly dense that smoke, and did all sorts of nasty things to sensors. The three floaters seemed to hesitate before gunning it and pursuing Hillivan. They made it to the ridge.
The four LAV's were visable, decked out to the max with a multitude of field modifications and their twin-linked chain guns where spinning in delight in Reefik's targeting screen.
Hillivan came into view.
"GO GO GO!" Noahan let out an excited giggle at what was to come.
The first Gaalsien assault craft cleared the rise with grace. It was immediately drenched in sparks as the LAV's roared past, spewing death.
"Zap. Twank. Crunch."
Reefik pulled the trigger and the entire tank bucked.
The lead Assault craft was struck along the flank, a large, white hot round gouging a massive furrow in its armour. It smashed straight through the bulbous hover project on it flank and bounced off as the armour curved around the rear. The vehicle teetered on the air for a handful of seconds before slipping sideways and smashing face first into the hard ground at the bottom of the dune. It immediately started belching smoke but Reefik reckoned the floats inside where alive.
Probably.
The reloading mechanism activated and Reefik watched as the round went up. Then the capacitors where spooling and it was time to pick another target.
It was going... well. Ish. Hillivan was dancing with one, Zoltan trading fire with the pursuing vehicle, and Reefik noticed the... lack of grace? that Konran usually admirably flaunted. It made itself present in the way he didn't manage to avoid all the shifts and dips that threw Zoltan off... how sometimes after a complex series of maneuvers, there where pauses as he re-orientated himself.
They where definitely tired. Probably been riding hard with a fight or two. They definitely made good time.
The other Triple-F was being swamped by four LAV's. It was handling itself well and one LAV was already limping noticeably. The floats hadn't picked up un it and the remaining three where doing what could only be described as a plaiting weave around and sometimes even under the enemy vehicle. Their guns where spewing rounds almost constantly. The enemy couldn't track one without three others peppering it with AP rounds.
Reefik let fly and for one point three agonising seconds he hoped the target wouldn't veer off or change course as a shaped and hypersonic hunk of tungsten carbide left a blazing blue trail of ionized air behind.
It didn't.
The round smacked dead on from the rear and went through the armour like a carrier through a sandstorm. It buckled and its main cannon faltered then stopped firing its erratic bark.
'I could have sworn I hit the-'
It exploded as its cold-fusion rector went critical.
Reefik watched with almost a bemused detachment as a sheet of armour a meter across was spat out of the miniature fireball and flew unerringly towards Crowbar three three. It connected moments later and sheared straight through the poor LAV's front left wheel. Suspension, shocks, drivetrain, everything. The whole assembly flew off and the LAV's nose hit the ground. It was not pretty.
It resembled a particularly gymnastic toddler throwing a tantrum as it cart-wheeled and flipped over four times before crunching to a halt on its turret.
It was barely recognisable as a LAV.
It was around this time that the last Gaalsien craft was turned into a tumbling ball of flame as an AP round hit something decidedly important. Hillivan's AAV trundled up looking particularly smug. It had a smoking round still visable near the front of the tank on its flank.
"Looks like Virnsan took quite the tumble. He responding?" Hillivan's voice was calm but held the definitive edge of someone who was very anxiously awaiting either fantastic or tragic news.
"Not sure. Their comms are laying about twenty meters to your left. We gonna have to cut them out, sir." Reefik's position allowed him to watch over it all as a sort of overwatch. Noahan was keeping eyes peeled on the surrounding sand.
"We've got the tools. We cut, Crowbar three one and three two will patrol and three four will keep Shard zero one company. Affirmative?" The radio burst into a cacophony of 'yessirs' and 'affirmed'.
"Hows she holding up, Ohnik?" Reefik watched the battered vehicle veer off and point themselves straight at their rail tank.
"Lets just say that there's a wonderful stifling breeze in here."
Reefik wondered at the implications.
"And you think she'll make camp?"
Ohnik was a man built like a sand monolith and twice as sturdy. He was an easy going man with a reckless streak a dune wide. A perfect LAV pilot.
"Of course, man. I mean... we can always get out and push." Reefik just shook his head in wonderment. He was more of a sit-at-the-rear fellow.
-0-
"Ya' know... I'm starting te detect a pattern..." Konran looked up and back at Zoltan.
"Yeah? Hows that?"
"Drive for a day. Get shot up. Sit in the sun and repair or save some shit, pick up royalty, hit camp, get kicked out of bars." Zoltan gave a defeated sigh in his chair. His hands where trembling and his brow was sodden.
"Kristaan... you wouldn't perhaps have a twin sister in the Assault craft business?" He gave a half attempt at waggling his eyebrows. Kristaan gave a muffled giggle before straightening.
"There's Khagaan, but she's... how would you call it? Admiral? Rear Admiral? Carrier captain? A mixture perhaps." Zoltan whined.
"No fair... I'm sure she'd love us. Think if I asked nicely, she'd give me her carrier after I blow her mind in-"
"Zoltan. Behave. Ladies have... whats the word I'm looking for?" Dirnkik started clicking his finger and looking around as if to find it attached to the roof.
"Sensibilities?" Hillivan supplied.
"Thats it! Refined women have sensibilities! The city was filled with 'em. Couldn't walk down a street without tripping over someone's sensibilities. Weirdest thing those..." Dirnkik's gaze became distant.
Kristaan was struggling to keep a straight face. Her mind was remembering the razor sharp politeness of the inner political circles, and couldn't help but want to chuckle at the outside perspectives view.
"Dirnkik, see if you can get into that LAV. I'll be cooking up some lunch. Any ideas?" Kristaan stared.
Food? At a time like this!? The LAV's where surrounding the Assault craft that went down first, hauling the three crewmembers out with pointed rifles and aggressive movements.
"Some barbecue, or whatever you do to those Sandvipers. That was nice. Though I doubt we have the stoneshrooms... Zoltan?" Konran asked in the middle of his musing.
Zoltan shrugged and was busy aiming the main gun at something.
"Some instant noodles on the side with that sauce could do wonders, actually." His stomach gave a growl.
'How hungry is this man?' Kristaan wondered with amazement. He'd eaten earlier, obviously scrounging up extra rations from... somewhere. And now he'd be eating again.
Hillivan nodded and Dirnkik slid out the side hatch with grace. The sweltering heat from outside hit her face and she blanched.
'Mid fifties at least.' And thank Sajuuk Coalition uniforms where just as good at keeping you cool, if somewhat less comfortable than Gaalsien uniforms.
Hillivan dropped out of his seat and went to rummage in the storage unit that acted as a low bench at the back.
He slipped out the side with a cooler-pack on his back, something white and hexagonal on a gimbal of a sort and a round plate with mesh over it.
"You want to watch, miss? Or are you going to enjoy the aircon?" Hillivan asked not particularly caring for an answer.
"I'll... I'll watch." Not entirely sure what she would be watching. The crew where abuzz, each doing something. Zoltan had opened a panel and was fiddling with what looked like the feeding mechanism for the Auto gun. Konran was looking rather jumpy as he clipped on armour to his softsuit towards the rear and picked up the no-nonsense rifle favoured by the coalition. Long barrel surrounded by cooling ridges in a rectangular prism design. Straight magazine and then the handhold incorporated into the adjustable stock. This one had no scope on it, but then again, Konran didn't look too comfortable with the weapon either. Which struck Kristaan as odd.
He slipped out of the side hatch and as it closed, it went clunk-click. Kristaan eyed the hatch.
"Is the hatch broken?" She wondered aloud. Maybe it was the locking mechanism? Or the magnetic seal?
"Nope. Just Can't get rid of the noise. You get used to it." Zoltan's voice was tinny from inside the panel. Kristaan gave a thoughtful pout.
"So tell me... whats life in the floats like? I mean you definitely hot enough to demand at least four different attempts to bed..." Kristaan gave a long suffering sigh.
"Don't. I don't want to have to put your future family in jeopardy." Zoltan gave an exaggerated gasp and a hand came down to clutched at his crotch.
"You wouldn't! I might infect your good sensibilities with... whatever us dirty peasants have." His voice was a chuckle with vowels in.
Kristaan bit her lip in her effort not to smile.
Time to see what Hillivan was doing.
"Don't kill yourself... or actually, don't damage the vehicle if you do."
-0-
"So what do you... you know, think of our addition?" Konran was maybe one mention of danger away from stuttering.
"Clear the hatch! Not sure. She's quiet, polite and smart. She could eitger be trouble or a great boon-" the rest was cut off as the roaring sizzle of the plasma cutter started eating away at a small space on the hatch. After a few seconds, a round hole roughly the size of a clenched fist fell outwards, edges glowing dulling in the shade.
"Anyone responsive?" Dirnkik shouted at the hole.
"Yeah, we both here. Virnsan might have concussion though." The voice was strained but didn't have the raspy wetness of an injured lung or throat.
"But I mean, Hillivan seems quite taken by her. In his own strange Hillivan'esque way."
"True. Its going to cause problems though." Dirnkik fiddled with the cutter then put it to where the locking mechanism was on the hatch. There was a short hiss and metallic snap. Dirnkik motioned for Konran to try the hatch. It was sitting upside down and leaning towards them. The three wheels, two bent in entirely new directions, stuck into the air like the legs of some helpless animal.
It didn't even bother to budge.
Dirnkik frowned and inspected the edge of the hatch. Finally seeming to reach his conclusion on what was keeping it shut, he positioned the cutter and called out a warning.
He drew a molten line, showering them both with sparks, along the what was now the top right corner and then dragged it to the bottom right. There was a screech of tortured metal and Dirnkik simply leaned sideways and let the hatch fall to the sand. It rose a massive cloud of fine sand and made both cough.
"Y... you all okay?" Konran peered around the hatchway. It was dimly lit by the outside light and the odd shower of sparks as equipment went through a domino effect of shorting out.
Two bodies where strung up from the 'roof' in their chairs. Virnsan was mumbling and attempting to undo buckles while upside down in the gunner/commander's seat. The driver, Silbilan, was just crossings her arms under a generous bust that was now being squished by the straps. It looked painful.
"You both okay?" Dirnkik pulled himself in and with a fluid movement, swung his way to the driver. A long combat knife appeared in his hand.
"Yeah... its painful though. Hurry if you can." Dirnkik signaled for Konran to get Virnsan. He swung himself up and nervously played with his own combat knife.
"Uhmmm. Just... hold on, Vernny. I'll see... see what I can do." He quickly sawed through a strap that freed the LAV commander's one arm that was pinned. As Konran worked, he saw Virnsan's eyes clear somewhat and beginning working with in more than a mindless flailing.
'Perhaps he was just stunned?' Another strap parted with a clothy sigh and Virnsan righted himself with a slow and careful movement. He freed his own knife and began working himself free alongside Konran. Finally Konran patted the closest handrail and after a moment of Virnsan holding on, cut the last strap. The LAV commander hung limply. They made their way out and sat heavily next to where the hatch was.
"You okay there?" Konran wasn't entirely sure what to say.
"'M fine. Just a bit shaken. What happened?"
"Lost a wheel to shrapnel." Dirnkik slid out of the hatch and helped Silbilan out after him, motioning to a wheel half buried in the fine sand almost fifty meters to the right.
"Ow. I think I twisted my arm in that tumble." Silbilan was indeed cradling her arm close to her chest.
"Surprised that the fire bulkhead didn't shake loose and puree you both. Consider yourselves lucky." Dirnkik was squinting up into the hatch, having crashed to the ground next to Konran.
"Wonder how we're getting back." Virnsan said idly, not particularly caring beyond this short respite of fighting. The four just sat in the shade and watched Hillivan rustle up something good and said another thing to the girl that sat cross legged near the solar cooker, hands gesturing mildly in emphasis of some tall story or other.
Virnsan finally clicked as Zoltan scurried out of the commander's cupola, opened a massive panel along the side of the gun and began tinkering with something inside. It involved a uni-spanner and alot of swearing
"Wait... who's that with Hillivan then?" He looked confusedly at Konran and Dirnkik, to Zoltan on top of the tank, the to the two figures conversing in the shade between the two tracks, clearly trying to count them out. They where under the hull while the solar cooker sat in the sun. Hillivan's tall figure would sometimes dart out, flip the grid over the plate, and stir a small pot of something then scurry back into the shade.
"She's... a passenger, I guess." Dirnkik kept it vague. Virnsan looked relieved. Probably at not seeing things.
"And why ain't we worried about the floats having called for backup? I mean... it wasn't exactly a bam and scram, we traded shells. they had plenty of time." He was still eyeing Hillivan and the cooker... trying to figure something out.
"Where are we?" Dirnkik fiddled with his knife.
"Somewhat southeast of the Mezoic flats. Whats that got to do with why there's no reinforcements?" Silbilan answered for her commander.
"Location is everything. We are too south to get caught in any attack aimed at the frontline bases, and the closest Gaalsien outpost is almost four days ride to the southwest. They weren't Baserunners and there isn't sign of them either. There was no way they could call for help..." Dirnkik sheathed the combat knife with a jerk.
"Besides. They hesitated. No float hesitates. Ever. They where wondering if they could engage safely so far away from backup. At least thats how I figure." Hillivan waved them over. Lunch was ready, then they'd be moving out.
"And, uh... Mind any food Zoltan nears. He... he likes his spicey." Konran gave a nervous chuckle.
-0-
The sun was hot and everyone decided that lounging under the AAV was best. The six sat comfortably with a metal plate wedge between knees or on laps.
A deep burgundy piece of meat dripping with sauce and a helping of instant noodles that where seasoned to make them more substantial adorned everyone's plates. The noodles where spicey but left a sweet aftertaste and the meat was tender, and the sauce filled in and complimented the somewhat salty tang.
It was good and all appreciated the value of good food in the middle of semi-deep desert.
"So Kristaan, what brings you to the 'Martins?" Virnsan asked as he slurped up a long thread of noodles. She shot a subtle but alarmed look at Hillivan. He gave a small, barely there wink.
"I'm... ah, well I am somewhat an expert on Gravshift technology, and was assigned to your fleet to see if I could be of assistance." She flushed and played with her food. Lies didn't sit well with her.
"You mean... you've work with and understand floaty bits?" Silbilan clarified with amazement. There weren't many people who had access to working floaty bits. They where either the first to get shot up, partially melted in a reactor overload or destroyed entirely in a crash or self destruct sequence especially designed to eliminate that possibility.
"Wow... so what do you plan on doing with this expertness then?" And Kristaan was now free falling off a cliff of indeterminate height.
She shrugged.
"Maybe design some sort of jammer or special round that jams the workings. Develop scanners that pick up gravshift wavelengths..." Kristaan's mind caught up with her mouth and it screamed in abject horror.
'What am I saying!? I can't possibly do that! I'm no scientists! I understand the basics, thats it! It will lead to more deaths!' But the words where out and the crowd was impressed.
"Huh. Guess that could be useful. Hillivan. Again. What did you do to this 'viper!? Its delicious." Virnsan gave a smile then stood. Winced, then righted himself.
"We'll be hitching a ride with Giiran. Thanks for the food. Sir, good to see you again. We'll see each other back at camp." Virnsan spoke into a comm at his neck and Silbilan got up.
"Always good to chat, Commander. See you all around." And as she managed to walk besides Virnsan that was aiming for a dune ridge, another LAV pulled up and both scrambled up into the vehicle and waved as the hatch shut with a much better resounding 'chunk' than their own.
"Lets move, people. I want to get back to camp." Hillivan had already packed away the solar cooker and plates where washed with handfuls of sand until semi-clean. The crew swung themselves up and into the tank with one graceful movement. Kristaan scrambled with slightly less grace.
Then they where all strapped in and they fell into the makeshift convoy. After a few seemingly random shuffling of positions they where at the front, with a LAV directly behind them, a rail tank that Kristaan had previously not notice before, and the other two LAV's, one with two extra crewmembers. She was looking over Dirnkik's shoulder as much as she was able to, while strapped in.
"How long until we reach the camp?"
Dirnkik just zoomed out from the convoy until it was one summary icon on the screen and panned in the direction they where headed. Four screens of panning later a waypoint marker was placed next to what looked like some sort of cliff-sided messa.
"Thats about another hours drive. If nothing else happens. Which shouldn't. Otherwise Hillivan will have Words with the sentries." She heard the capital 'W' in words. She processed this and finally found issue.
"Why are your sentries posted so far from your base. Backup is far from available and there are many that could slip through the cracks!" Dirnkik just shook his head with a smile.
"Scouts don't engage without being sure they'll come out on top. Their job is just to alert so we can either avoid or ambush. This here was a fringe engagement. Reefik probably had his reasons for moving all the way out here... probably was looking for trouble. Or us." Kristaan's brows furrowed and she wasn't sure of any supposed 'intel' on the Coalition's tactics anymore.
"You are fine with your subordinates just gallivanting around the desert? Do they not respect or heed your orders?" Kristaan challenged Hillivan in his position above them in the commander's seat. Hillivan gave an enigmatic smile and lounged back from his scanning ahead.
"Lets put it like this. If I can't predict where my men are, the enemy most certainly can't." Kristaan stared, mouth tempted to gape.
"No, I jest. These men are following orders. There is a system and it works. I like to think of my men as competent, and as such, take liberties and initiatives." Hillivan propped a boot up onto a nearby rail.
"I'm not a superior that deigns to micro manage my troops. If I say jump, they better know that I don't mean off a cliff or into enemy fire. I point them in a direction and we all go. One big, extended, happy family. With heavy armour and rail guns." Kristaan's fists clenched and she narrowed her eyes.
"This is war. This is serious! Our people are fighting and dying and you all are treating is as one fantastic adventure!" She half attempted to stand but thought better.
"Where is your sense of gravitas? My brothers and sisters are treated as entertainment?" Only years of rapt knuckles and stern decorum tutors kept her from spitting on his boots and cursing his bloodline.
His eyes turned stern.
"Kristaan. We do indeed take your Kiith seriously. There is a too long list in the logs of brothers and sisters taken by this Sajuuk-damned war. We did not want this war. Gaalsien shells were the first fired in anger! You called the 'Martins to the sands to wage war... a pointless, mindless war. You do realise the only outcomes, right? You do realise your father as consigned us to a long, bitter war, surely?"
Hillivan didn't look angry, he looked... depleted. He looked weathered as if the entire war was on his shoulders alone.
"One that ends either at the end of Kiith Gaalsien, or at the end of the Kiithid of S'jet, Manaan, Sobaan, Somtaaw... all of us. Because those pretty little lights up there? They're our last hope of surviving this sun-baked rock, and S'jet knows that. And they'll fight until there aren't any left. And the Coalition will too, because they too, know the benefits, if not the long term. And you? Kiith Gaalsien? You fight in the name of our god and his prophecies. Religion calls to people and they'll fight to protect it."
Kristaan wanted to say more. She wanted to scream at him. She wanted this petty war to end... but she now saw how it would all end. It seemed so simple now. It was horrifying.
"Why do you fight then? Why does Manaan fight with the Coalition?" Her voice was small, barely audible above the swishing of the tracks and whine of the powercell.
She watched as the interior of the tank became significantly more frosty with all the icy looks. Not at her, in particular, but at the screens and throttle control and main gun triggers. Like all where remembering old pasts.
Hillivan gave another long sigh.
"What was your first thought when you found out we were Kiith Manaan? What did you say? What did you assume, despite your education?" Kristaan was struck dumb.
'What did I say?' She racked her brain.
'What could cause an entire Kiith to-'
~Never strung your victims desecrated bodies to your ship with razorwire?~
She shivered. Hillivan gave a morbid nod.
"We are not overly well liked. The most adverse to our existence would be your family. Then Siidim. Probably Nabaal after that..." Hillivan shook his head as if clearing his thoughts.
He eyed her up and down and Kristaan felt... judged? Evaluated? It did strange things to her gut and she couldn't place the feeling.
"We will, eventually, probably when we get back to camp, have to reveal your identity as a member of Kiith Gaalsien." She blanched and her complexion was similar to that of their camouflage.
"Why!?" The rest of the crew also looked decidedly interested.
"Her mannerisms and the way she holds herself will get noticed after longer exposure and more than a cursory glance. Call it a proactive protection technique." Hillivan nodded to himself before looking at her feet.
"My station is brought on by more than just rank, and I value trust highly. One look at you walking the sand and people will be at my thoat for the deceit." He turned and began look over the surrounding desert, completely unaffected by the apparent death sentence he'd just given her.
Dirnkik looked thoughtful for a long moment.
"You plan on giving her a weapon, don't you, sir?" Hillivan nodded. Kristaan narrowed her eyes.
"And plan on using her position as royalty to keep her safe." It wasn't a question. Konran, markedly less nervous, gave a small snort.
"And why won't all the 'Martins lynch mob her?"
"We'll be too busy tackling the real enemy and they'll be chewing on the main targets to worry. Mostly me just asking nicely."
'This man is unreal. He's Suntouched.' Kristaan also belatedly realised how often this was said or thought and then decide that it was either true or he was blessed by Sajuuk himself. Probably both. She gave him a dirty look or three just to keep up appearances, but was on some detached level already aware of her fate.
-0-
Kristaan had to give it to the 'Martins. Really. They could say they could hide a carrier up the arse of a sandrat and she'd believe them. They packed away a support cruiser (she was sure they weren't meant to be that big though), two wings of the Manaan AAVs, another wing of LAVs, a rail gun and a pair of what appeared to be some adaption of an AAV but without a turret... all into a small but sprawling camp wedged against a cliff. That was invisible until you broke your nose against the bow plate of one of the LAVs covering the entrance.
Kristaan had been all but shoved into the command cupola as they neared the camp. She'd squinted and looked and stared and squinted some more but she didn't spot it until they'd cleared the last dune and suddenly the bustling camp was... there. It didn't help that the entire crew burst into a fit of manly giggles at her expression.
Hillivan sported a red hand on his shoulder when he came to close.
"Welcome to camp Frostbite. Our humble abode for the next three days. We hope you'll enjoy your stay!" Zoltan gave a chuckle interrupted by an angry growl from his stomach. He'd eaten not half an hour ago.
"Stow it, Zoltan. Konran, park her in line for the repair shop. But see to it that there's space for Ohnik. His LAV got pretty shot up." Konran nodded and they pulled around the rear of the support cruiser. Kristaan gasped. The back cavity had been converted entirely to a heavy duty production and repair shop. There where two LAV's and an AAV in the making, merely skeletons on gangly support struts with sparks erupting every few seconds. There was a sort of roof halfway up the rear cavity with the noses of two...
'Are those strike fighters!?'
This was definitely not a support cruiser. No way. It was almost two full AAV's too long and it had the back filled in and weapon pontoons on the sides and-
"You are staring, miss." Dirnkik had maybe a hint of a ghost of a smile on his lips.
"What did you do to your cruiser?" She managed to sound awestruck, offended and scared at the same tine.
"Mananoi pattern... its not standard in the coalition lineup if thats whats bothering you. Its too pricey and doesn't suit its role in the main fleets. Fits ours perfectly though." Kristaan watched the damaged LAV from their convoy pull up and reverse into an empty slot in the bay. The mechanics gave it a tired and challenging look.
"Time for you to see out center of operations! Can I give her the tour?" Zoltan was like a kid with his racing idol. Hillivan just shook his head and opened the commander's hatch.
"I don't trust you to sit the right way on a toilet seat, Zoltan. Why would I trust you with a pretty lady?" Kristaan blushed slightly and scowled.
"I'm right here you idiots." They both gave her a 'yes, and?' look.
"Can I just... look around a bit first?" She tentatively asked. She wanted to see how all these vehicles where different from the standard. Every single model was altered or improved on. She wanted to poke and prod and just generally be inquisitive. Maybe be a nuisance if she was lucky.
Hillivan gave her a thoughtful look before sighing.
"Dirnkik. You up for escort duty? Or you think she'll manage to not stir up trouble?" Dirnkik gave a longing look towards the chop-shop, then to her. Then back.
"She'll manage." Kristaan just... watched in awe.
"Like I said, dipshits, I'll give her the tour!" Both Hillivan and Dirnkik gave almost identical pained looks at their tame gunner, who looked vaguely predatory if you looked closely or too quickly.
"I'll go with Zoltan. I just want to see for myself the great Desertmartins in the flesh." The inside of the AAV grew decidedly awkward as they all just sat and stared at the massive white elephant in the room.
"Was that... flattery?" Konran sounded like he couldn't quite fit his head around it.
Kristaan blushed.
"Just... don't kill anyone. I will disapprove." Hillivan looked at Kristaan pointedly. More accurately, at his revolver and holster strapped to her hip.
"I'll be in the center hatching plots. If there's trouble, I don't know you and I have never seen you before in my life. Oh, and keep suit comms to channel five." And with that, Hillivan was gone from the command chair and out into the dry air outside.
Kristaan and Zoltan looked at each other and grinned a conspiring grin.
-0-
The place was Busy. Borderline chaotically Busy. Busy with a capital 'B'. There was this humming jostle of bodies and vehicles. There was a surprisingly constant flow of outgoing and incoming traffic at the entrance. The LAVs that had accompanied them back from the fight had dispersed and some had gone out, presumably on patrol, while others returned.
The troops trudged around base in their tan armour, rifles clipped to their back. Some where in groups beneath camouflaged shade cloth. They'd be sitting around with caati juice in hand or cards held fugitively against the prying eyes of crewmates
'Was that a Regicide board?' She caught the familiar shapes between a small crowd and two relaxed but hawk-eyed individuals.
There was constantly a small buzz of conversation, snippets of some making her smile at its benign nature. Her boots where her old Gaalsien ones, and she strode next to Zoltan in comfort. He was busy pointing out the advantages of the Mabaan LAV over that of the Sobanii pattern with wild movements and the odd chuckle or laugh. They made their way over to the repair bay as Kristaan was held fascinated by the intricate tale of why Mananoi Vehicle's tended to outperform other patterns. She stopped at the 'entrance' of the repair bay, the cavernous rear of the support cruiser. There was the low grinding scream of heavy duty machinery and the teeth-hurting whine of fabrication projectors. Voices would drift above the cacophony of noice in demand for the odd uni-wrench or a size thirteen power-driver. There was a solitary repair beam focused on the LAV. The pale blue ethereal beam was subdued, partially due to the intensity of the ones currently emanating around the new vehicles, Kristaan had no doubt.
"Can I help ye?" Kristaan turned to look at the new voice. She caught herself from bursting into laughter. The man took her up to maybe her chest, and was... portly. He didn't have a neck so much as a series of chins. He didn't have a stomach, he had an equator. She was sure if she pushed him over, he'd roll.
"Ah, Graan. Just wondering around. See you guys managed to scrounge up enough RU's for some expansion. Boss is gonna have a field day sorting the rosters again." Graan just nodded, all his chins nodding with.
"Who's the broad?" Kristaan's hands clenched into fists. Zoltan had the balls to laugh.
"Watch it, Hillivan said no trouble... he'll introduce her to the 'Martins at the meet most probably." Zoltan replied easily, shifting slightly to cover Kristaan's hand playing with Hillivan's revolver.
"Call 'em as I see 'em. Don't look like much, maybe some rich kid who had daddy pay for her safety... or Boss now goes for arm candy?" He looked at Kristaan with open, inquiring eyes. Looking at her for her answer.
Kristaan's answer was to very calmly but very deliberately look the man in his eyes, voice laced with sugary acid.
"I'd choose to castrate Hillivan before becoming his damn arm candy. My father never deigned to spend a cent on me other than what was necessary. I'm here," she motioned to the camp beyond the low gap in the 'walls'.
"Because I worked hard for it. Call me a broad again and I don't care what Hillivan says, I'll shoot your fucking dick off. Now. Tell me. Where is your most intact piece of... I believe the term is 'floaty bits'?" You could have driven a carrier safely across the rooms tension with it snapping.
The man's eyes were large and round and hurt. He gave a blink and they went back to open sincerity.
"You work with gravshift tech? Over there. Most is useless but two have only minor damage... didn't catch your name, miss." Kristaan faltered.
'What?' Again, one of Hillivan's crew seemed to read her mind.
"Graan can put a knife in your throat and still look like you kicked his cat-owl. His language is... kinda rough but he means nothing by it... unless you intimidated." Zoltan chuckled.
"But I think he saw his life flash before his eyes... don't pull a gun out on someone in camp unless you want a round between your eyes..." he motioned to random crew sitting around on their tanks or on the mezzanine just below the roof of the repair bay, casually toting scoped rifles and very uncasually glaring at her.
"My name is Kristaan, Graan, its... uh, it is a pleasure to meet you?" He gave her a look over his shoulder and his chins followed.
"You hang around the shop and work with float tech, I ain't got no trouble with that. Fuckers that come in here high an' mighty like, with their degrees and shit, thinking they Sajuuk's hairy balls... fuck ups never last. But you... you got grease monkey hands. And balls. Big ones. I like that."
They moves to the back, between the repairing LAV, and the skeleton of the new LAV, where there was a long table that could fold away. It was filled with tech. Heaps of it. Little mountains of capacitors, powerflow actuators, field manifolds and power distributors. There where some still in their casings, all the access panels open to reveal a black, charred mess inside.
She just stood for a moment and took it all in. Sure enough, two Assault craft projectors where put off to the side relatively intact, one with its capacitor and manifold one twisted mess, and the other with a mangled round buried in the tangle of pipes and wires of the distribution matrix. She spotted some intact varients on the table. A long, arduous repair job, but a simple one at least. If either had some major projector damage, it'd be hell to fix. But... she needed a test bed.
"You got a commander chair, an ammunition fabricator, some struts and a need for speed?" She eyed what she assumed was the chief grease monkey. She can see the internal grin behind those childlike eyes full of wonder.
-0-
"Donnaan! You like like you want to kill Iizen again. What did he do now?" Hillivan greeted the murderous looking man with savage blue eyes and short, spiky hair. The man was standing just next to the doorway on the bridge of the support cruiser. It had a few figures haphazardly scattered around a few consoles. Donnaan jumped.
"Sajuuk damn it. Commander! Fuck... don't do that. I swear one day one of us are gonna shoot you." He placed a hand on his chest and the other away from his sidearm he instinctively reached for.
Hillivan just gave an all-knowing smile, eyes dancing with mirth.
"Nothing much. Just the usual arguments... the ol' man had a hissy fit while you where gone. Someone from Crowbar was doing double shifts, and we had two patrols out at once. Apparently back in the day men followed orders." Donnaan rolled his shoulders and looked out the vast reinforced plexiglass viewports at the dune ahead of them and the blue-white sky above.
Hillivan gave a sage nod. The caught the look.
"Haven't you got a flight in an hour?" Hillivan asked, then looked around the bridge. No one had noticed him yet.
"Yessir. We got a long patrol that'll take us southwest until almost Rockfell point." Hillivan gave small wan smile.
"How about you wheels up an hour earlier and do a favour for me and see whats a bit further out. Don't take chances though, but you look like you need it..." and instead of the dopey smile and enthusiasm expected, he got a subdued nod and a smile that was more pity than happiness.
'Strange.' Hillivan filed it away to ponder on later.
Hillivan turned and snuck into the captain's seat.
He just took a moment to sag down and enjoy a moment of respite. He was home. Amoungst friends and family away from the balls-to-the-wall fighting of the front. He sat there with his head leaning against his left fist, propped up on an armrest.
"Where's the captain?" He suddenly asked, voice light and teasing. The deck stiffened. And Hillivan knew he wasn't that ominous... his mind raced. One of the officers, comms, gave him an unreadable look.
"She's in the mess, sir. Welcome back, by the way. Need to get this, sir." The comms officer, a petite and pretty little thing, turned back to her console, hands fluttering and callsigns passing lips freely and Hillivan felt trepidation crawl somewhere deep inside his spine. Donnaan's look fresh in his mind, the atmosphere became laughably easy to read.
Anger.
Loss.
Sadness and something else tangibly dancing on despair but not quite.
Hillivan got up and stalked out without another word. Mieklik would fill him in. Or the old man.
The mess was a large but ultimately compact affair. The aircons whined and the hum of the powercell sat somewhere in your lower stomach. The food was bland in a disproportionate ratio to the cheeriness of the quartermasters and/or chef
Mieklik's white captains cap was as easy as always to spot. He got a plethora of 'morning sir's and 'commander's from passing deck hands and other crews not in their own tanks.
She was eating something, not entirely identifiable, and glaring angrily at a datapad. Hillivan sat with feline grace. She looked up, choked, coughed and swore with a single breath.
"Commander! When did you get back?" Hillivan dropped all the pleasantries like a hot stone.
"What happened?" Hillivan sounded resigned. Mieklik blanched underneath her cap. She put down her spork, and did a defeated motion on her datapad. After a handful of seconds and tense silence, the captain of the support cruiser pushed the pad across the table.
"Those reinforcements we where keeping tabs on? They weren't harassment. Base Omega fell about two hours ago." And Hillivan's world just dropped. Like taking a step up a dune and reaching the crest, unknowingly stepping into the void. Like that moment of waiting for the AAV to hit the deck again. Like looking at a datapad telling you that a base you left that morning was now a series of smoking craters in the hot expanse of Kharak.
'This isn't fair.' It was an ultimately useless thought but it was thought anyway. Hillivan just stared blankly at the well-done report telling him that the Fiiskire, Base Omega and its garrison where currently destroyed, overrun and a mixture of dead or POWs. And that he'd missed the entire thing by three quarters of an hour and sixty degrees of bearing. That made him angry. Helplessly angry at how he was riding off into the sunrise and there was Darraki-
'Oh Sajuuk. Darraki.' Hillivan slumped and Mieklik gave a small understanding nod.
"The Admiral is unaccounted for. She could easily be leading the survivors rearguard action, or be sitting in a pow camp." The 'or dead' was there, grinning broadly at Hillivan.
"I see. I want a meet at sundown. I'll talk to the 'Martins." Hillivan knew they'd be just as beat up as him over not being able to help. And Kristaan would be...
'Oh shit this is going to be a nightmare.' How was he meant to tell the 'Martins that Kristaan was part of all that... Hillivan sat and thought, mind churning in free fall.
"Commander, I know its not much... but I know you'll pull us through." Mieklik got up and marched away, tray in hand.
He clicked on his handheld radio.
"Konran?" There was a burst of faint static and then the man answered with a nervous 'Yessir?'
'Wonder were the man is, right now.'
"Thanks." And he clicked the radio off, sat back and brought his hands up to try and rub away his mood.
Dirnkik, fresh from the chop-shop and a quick talk to an obscenely happy Kristaan, sat in the seat Captain Mieklik had occupied and gave Hillivan a long, penetrative look.
He pushed the extra tray towards Hillivan.
"You need the fluids. Graan told me what happened. Wanna fill me in on the plan, boss?" Apparently it was the wrong thing to say because Hillivan just swore softly, then glared at Dirnkik. It faltered as Hillivan realised what he was doing and relented.
"No idea, Dirnkik. We need something to fall back on. We need an objective. We need to gather moral. Heck, I need moral." Dirnkik just took a sip of his canister of caati purple.
"We're equipped for a long, freelancing mission to around Howl's waterworks... Kharak was kind to us." Dirnkik continued, taking another chilled sip of the fine beverage.
Hillivan's gaze became distant.
"Whats that in kilos?" Dirnkik had to pause at that.
"Uhm, as the LAV flies, fifteen maybe sixteen thousand?" Hillivan nodded slowly and Dirnkik had long ago realised when his boss was thinking of a hairbrain scheme that would save everyone's hide.
"Should I alert Kristaan to the... developments, sir?" Hillivan looked at him absently before giving a faint 'no'.
"I think I'll do that myself."
-0-
Hillivan isn't sure of the feeling sitting in his chest as he watches their... Guest? Prisoner? Crewmember? work intently in the 'Martins repair shop. There's a happy, but strangely stern and concentrated pout to her lips and her hair looks criminally soft in the artificial light.
Its a tight, roiling feeling that makes him feel dirty and useless. He prided himself for his mental dexterity and astute nature but this... he didn't want to figure out.
No one should need to.
"Kristaan." And she jumps, startled. He'd been standing almost directly next to her for well over five minutes.
"Don't do that! What if I was to have had a solder, or grinder or... any manner of repair equipment that could have been used to inflict messy, bloody damage to your-" she puts away the torque-wrench while complaining in her polite, ever-so-formal way of speaking before turning to him and paused.
"-well dressed self." She finished lamely as she eyed his uniform. Hillivan had shaved, showered and shiny'ed up, as Zoltan always said.
'Girls and High command love it when a man does the three Shzzes for them
.' And Zoltan made a point of never doing any of them. At least, for high command at any rate.
"You clean up well, sir." She loked up at him from where he was standing.
'Damn her. Damn her for...' he wasn't sure what.
"Kristaan." And the mirth and teasing lilt to her eyes dissappeared at the tone.
-0-
The Desertmartins, in all their tan, scruffy and rowdy glory are standing room only in the mess hall of the Frostbite, and Hillivan could never feel more paternal if he had a midget yapping at his ankles.
He's also anxious and somewhat lost, like a ship that drifted out with the shifting sands and hadn't realised. His crew are right there in the front, looking for all the world like they're watching a crash in motion.
'It feels like it. Sajuuk, but it does.'
But Hillivan grits his teeth, tastes the caustic, acidic feeling settling on his tounge and holds his hand up for silence. The crowd falls quiet and Hillivan was sure he'd been thinking of what he wanted to say earlier.
"Men. I... I stand here wirh some bitter news. More than what I expect you to take in good grace but I ask yiu do none the less." He swallows, voice filled with confidence from some ethereal dimension and the room hanging on his words.
"At six fourty two this morning, Base Omega came under a full scale Gaalsien attack of at least carrier group strength. At eight twenty, we received the last active transmission from them. It it presumed overrun." There was a tense, angry silence. A few barely heard mutters.
"Before it was attacked, we received our orders, and a further objective. Now I know you all want to go back and show the floats some real fighting, I do too, but I ask you to listen... The forces in this area are completely unawares, as usual, to our presence. This is, as bleak as it sounds, the perfect opportunity to attack, to cut them deep and watch them bleed." There are a few agreeable growls and there is a fire burning in the men's eyes.
"Before we left, we where to hit the depots, cause havoc as the Fiiskire pushed down in the gap. The carrier is confirmed destroyed. So. We do this instead..." Hillivan steps to the side and flinty gazes scrutinise the map that appears.
"We head Southeast, cut West at Diff ridge, and hit our first target." The much vaunted satellite images as well as standard reconnaissance photos appear revealing sand trap walls and a buult up camp in a dune sea.
"This is believed to be the floats main supply depot for their three main staging areas. After their attack it's grossly under manned and open. We'll be hitting heavy RU deposits, ammo and some air reserves. This is stage one of a three phase suicide mission that ends deep inside enemy territory. It will hit them hard. This will put them back weeks if we hit the surrounding staging areas as well." The atmosphere fizzled with tension.
"Questions?" Hillivan looked around.
"Is this effective immediate, sir?" A man asked, hair patched with a jagged scar on his chin.
"No, we'll be keeping to our schedule."
"And the other carriers, sir?"
"Unavailable until proven otherwise." This cause a few grumbled curses
"And the backup we where promised?" Hillivan gave a dour look at the crowd.
"As far as I know, those assets are available. Just the main defensive lines where attacked." A few men relaxed if only slightly. There was a pause as Hillivan waited the nodded.
"Any other information you all need will be relayed to your vehicles. Now... topic two." Kristaan, at the head of the crowd, had swallowed cryogenic fluid. She watched Hillivan look around with something bordering on compassionate and dabbling in fierce.
"I know my choices are... odd, and orders even more so, but I hope you've managed to see the sense in hindsight. Donnaan, like the time I forbid flying near the drumsand. Or Telikon, that time when I ordered your wing to disengage the skimmers back at Poplar city... it may seem strange, it may not make sense, but it will help. Us. The choices I make is to try make sure we all make it back..."
"Oh Sajuuk's hairy balls Hillivan. Don't be so dramatic." The crowd laughed and Hillivan glared at the disembodied voice, the mood lightened somewhat. He finally relented with a smile.
"Kristaan?" She froze. Hillivan motioned for her to stand besides him where all could see. It was horribly exposed. She got up and there was a lone cat call from somewhere. She bristled but kept her expression guarded and pessimistically hopeful.
"Kristaan, I'd like to introduce you to the Desertmartins, scruffiest fighting force north of the south pole." A few outraged cries. Hillivan leaned in and whispered into Kristaan's ear.
"Sorry 'bout this." Her gut twisted, and panic clawed its merry way up her spine...
"Desertmartins, our new cultural expert as well our Gravshift technician, Kristaan Gaalsien'Sa'Ka."
A/N: Evil cliffie is evil. This grew and grew until I just gave up and typed. I like big updates anyway. Leave a review if you enjoyed or to tell me to to take a long walk off a short pier... or found grammer/syntax issues.
Glossary: wildlife.
Monkey - small furry animal that lives near the poles analogous to our shrew or mouse. Not a four limbed tree dweller. (What are Kushan trees anyway?) Small biological quirk allows them to imbib and process hydrocarbons out of engine grease and low grade fossil fuels. Commonly found in engines and transmissions of any vehicle. Mechanic.
Sandviper - Large desert reptile. Think cross between a sidewinder, anaconda and gaboon viper. Sidewinder in habit and color, anaconda in size and gaboon viper in head and mouth shape. Extremely dangerous. Buries itself in sand until only the eyes and sensory pits poke above the sand, coiled to strike at passing prey.
Sandrat - Like common earth rats, but more... "OMFG WTF IS THAT!?" in size. Averages the size of a great dane, and absolutely terrified of its Kushan neighbours. This leads to some confusion because neither can decide who is more terrified.
Caati plant - succulent plant (anything but succulent) that comes in four distinct subspecies, spotted, brown, purple and red. It can be distilled, fermented, juiced and dried. Each leading to a peculiar effect. Each has a different effect based on species and process. Fermented Purple leads to an energy drink like a cross between Monster and Redbull. Without the snazzy catchphrases. People tend to have to be scraped off of ceilings if one is unprepared.
Ever hopeful
E.W.