NO HESITATING

Lusatian Mountains - Central Europe, En Route Colony 2208 - February 9th, 2157

The icy wind blew shards of ice across miles of frozen wasteland. What little trees remained were bent at nature's will constantly threatened to be uprooted. It was a literal desert of snow as even bacteria could struggle to survive out here, but this was just every day, at least for several years or so. A black tilt-wing helicopter breaks through a cloud of frost bearing north, though the weather was brutal, though the helicopter could take a beating far worse than this, being retrofitted to handle such extreme conditions. Even with fifteen passengers and a heavy cargo, the twin rotor vehicle still managed a speed of nearly two-hundred knots.

Hashed at by a constantly freezing wind, Warrant Officer Datorru Naga tightened his grip on his uniform jacket. He turned from time to time watching and wondering why they bothered leaving the ramp down. He wanted to order the ramp closed, though he wasn't the highest ranking soldier onboard.

Across from him was a Colonel Gabriel Wray of the Arganac Forces, and he seemed at ease in the belly of a frozen beast. Matching the rest of his flock, he wore white and russet splotched B.D.U. (Battle Dress Uniform), minus the standard gray ballistic vest and helmet.

"You cold Chief?" The Colonel asked jokingly.

"No Sir, just happen to enjoy hugging myself." Datorru was a dark and bald individual standing at about 5'10" , coming from a warmer climate had toned his skin darker than most ebony. "I was originally stationed at Tunis Harbor, so you know how much warmer it is there." His eyes wandered to their rather large cargo: spare parts for Jackal type Walker. Equipment such as a booster module designed for quicker mobility, a reinforced right knuckle, and several sheets of composite armor.

The Colonel's eyes came across another soldier who had been standing near the ramp actually embracing the cold, "...and what about him?"

"Huh?" Datorru gave a quick glance recognizing the only redheaded soldier in his outfit, "Heard he's from Colony Ten-Twenty-Seven near the Berlin, I'm sure he knows all about cold."

Icy wind beat across the young redhead's face as he took another long drag on his cigarette; his hair grew past military requirements hanging just above his ears. Cursed with a pair of matching red eyes and pale face earned him the nickname "Dark" among his squad, though his tags read off as Corporal Barrett Sheppard. The Corporal clung tightly to a cargo hook for support, while his other hand kept the cigarette from the wind until bringing it back to his lips. A crew member called out to him: "You keep standing that close to the ramp and you'll get frostbite from the wind chill." His eyes shifted, though didn t look back to the person, he gave a silent sigh tossing the cigarette into the wind and let gravity take it.

A streaking plume of smoke erupted from the ground and trailed into the sky, it harmlessly passed over the helicopter s front arc and disappeared out of sight. The pilot eyed his control panel wondering why there wasn t any alarm or warning indicator, though his fears were realized when he heard what sounded like thunder behind them. There was no damage to the craft, though it would only be the start of things to come, they took evasive maneuvers.

-- Mayday, mayday, mayday, this is Lone-Hound flight: Hotel Seven Niner, we're being engaged by hostiles.

Datorru eyes cracked open allowing adrenaline to cure his freezing feeling, and instinctively rushed to an unmanned machine gun mounted at the loading ramp. A crew-member yelled aloud to the Warrant reminding him to strap in with a support hook. He did so hooking a cord to his vest and gripped the weapon. Wind is too thick, "I can't acquire a target!" He watched as several plumes of smoke streaked into the sky around them. The pilot answered back stating that they re enemy was using self-aimed rockets, making it difficult for the computer to track them in this weather. With a quick breath, Datorru opened fire spraying countless bullets into the air. He targeted the nearing rockets hoping to detonate them whilst in mid-air.

-- Mayday, this is Lone-Hound flight: Hotel Seven Niner, we ve engaged by hostiles!

The machine gun continued to vibrate wildly nailing one or two lucky shots causing them to explode safely away from them. A sudden repeated clicking signaled Datorru the gun was empty. "I'm out!" Barrett rushed to his aid as they both worked to reload the heavy weapon. One of the many streaks darted directly upward driving into the helicopter's right nacelle effectively destroying the right rotor and engine. The vehicle suddenly listed to the left forcing it to spin at an awkward angle. The combined sound of the engine failure alarm and gearbox s high-pitched whine overpowered someone muttering repeatedly: Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit!

-- We're hit, Hotel Seven Niner is going down, we are going down!

The pilot gritted his teeth still maneuvering the spiraling vehicle with a degree of luck and skill. His co-pilot took his place relaying the condition over and over as if he was jinxing their terrible situation into a good one. The remaining rotor spun wildly overworking to keep several tons of steel from diving directly forward. As long as the vehicle was parallel to the ground, she could spin all she wanted, just so long as they landed. As they say: any crash you can walk away from was a good one, and the pilot wanted the best crash possible. The pilot had already disengaged the engines eliminating torque, but craft was still coming in too fast.

-- Hotel Seven Niner is going down!

Casius continued to trail the convoy that was being headed by Alie's Jackal. Their course took them through a region known as the Sudetes, a vast domain of dangerous outcroppings, snowy plains, and mountain ranges. It was the second coldest region on the planet, but definitely the most unforgiving. It's still a wonder that a colony ever survived out here, Colony 2208, was originally set up to be a safe haven by the EU (European Union), when the temperatures were still dropping. Now it serves as an outpost for Arganac forces. It'd been a couple of days since the ambush, the Snow Squadron collected what scrap metal they could carry from their downed equipment, and buried their comrades where they had made camp. Words were said, moments had passed, but they were just another casualty war and winter.

Alie slipped another two tablets hoping to curb a migraine from advancing across her temples. She set her Walker to cruise on autopilot, allowing her to rest her feet a moment. The convoy was running on exhausted and injured crewmen, she herself most of all. The Sergeant was thrown in charge only days ago when Snow's original Commanding Officer was caught in an enemy crossfire.

Since then its been enemy ambushes, mines, and equipment fatigue. Seemed as though militia was advancing into the Eastern Reflex, though originally thought to be nothing more than pirates, but they always seemed much more organized than that. They were Ara' lei knights belonging to the Principality of Ara' lei or some other bull, they wanted something that most couldn't understand. They always preached about the winter like it was their doing, and that they're kind shall inherit the planet. They're probably right, they probably did deserved this shithole. But it the mean time it was soldiers like Alie who were charged with stopping them whenever possible.

-- Twenty-Two Alpha to Snow.

Alie's radio bleeped to life grabbing her attention, it was the field headquarters Callsign back at 2208.

-- Twenty-Two Alpha to Snow-One, do you copy?

"Solid copy twenty-two."

-- Snow-One we re tracking a downed helicopter no more than one hundred and some forty klicks (kilometers) to the east of your current location. We're redirecting you to their location for support, Call sign: Lone-Hound.

Alie began to grit her teeth, her squad was barely operational as it was, too many were already wounded and would only serve to ruin this new objective. "Negative twenty-two, I've got several wounded, Requesting resupply at Twenty-Two-Zero-Eight and recommence after..."

-- That is a negative Snow-One, there is a high priority V.I.P. aboard that helo, were tracking the S.O.S. signal due east. Your orders are to take able personnel and retrieve Lone-Hound flight s passengers, over.

Alie cursed aloud slamming her fist against the panel, though made sure the comm. was off before doing so. "I copy." Alie brought her Jackal to a halt, effectively stopping the convoy. She switched communication over to a local channel bringing the convoy on the radio.

Casius who had already been listening in commented first, "I've got fight left in me Sarge!"

"Don't get cocky on me Corporal, militia is probably swarming those passengers as we speak." She thought a moment taking an inventory of the remaining convoy: Two old armored vehicles, two five-ton trucks, and the A-8 Tiger Tank. Taking all the heavy gear along would leave the separate convoy defenseless, even this close to the Colony was still a risk. Both trucks were already carrying eleven wounded, spare armaments, and some six able bodied infantry.

"Move all the wounded onto one of the trucks, the wounded will continue to twenty-two-oh-eight. I'm taking a AV (armored vehicle) and the five-ton with me, Casius you take point since you've got so much fight left."

"Yes ma'am!"

"Specialist Vyse, I want you on that truck too, they're probably some wounded at the crash site."

"Roger."

"Double time Snow, we're moving out."

The first thing Private Nicholas Lori could focus on was breathing, it seemed loudest to him coming back to consciousness. His body was cold, but that was to be expected in the Reflex crash or not. His body had been placed seated against the inner wall of the helicopter, before the crash he remembered being forced to stand as everything started to spin. Everything just seemed to be a blur afterwards, almost feeling unreal, though a quick glance at his surroundings had shown him it was very real. Much of the interior was still intact after the crash, excluding some materials and debris thrown about, the helicopter kept much of its shape. Laid out next to the Private was a row of his squad-mates, some injured, others not, and one or two possibly unconscious or dead.

Corporal Barrett Sheppard appeared before him reaching out with his hand, "Can you move?" Private Lori responded meeting his hand and adjusting to his feet. Barrett pointed towards the ramp where Datorru had been laying out gear, "Head over to the Warrant and help him out." Lori just nodded, still not understanding why he hadn't tried talking yet. He opened his mouth letting blood spill all over his flak vest and the metallic floor.

Datorru handed him some cloth as Nicholas approached, "Don't try talking; I think you bit the inside of your cheek." Nicholas nodded in response feeling pain surge in that exact location of his mouth, a few thin layers of skin separated his tongue from his outer cheek. He leaned over spat a mouthful of bloody bits, then immediately stuffed gauss inside his cheek. "Today is your lucky day Private, you re going to be manning the machine gun." The Warrant slapped his hand on the K-80 light machine gun that was once attached to the ramp, it had now been placed just outside the helicopter and behind a stack of metallic crates. He then shifted to one knee as he loaded a grenade attachment at the bottom of his FA-37 assault rifle. The weapon was light-weight featuring a hollow-graphite stock, and fired semi-armor piercing rounds.

Barrett reappeared shaking his head, "The Colonel has a broken collar bone, he isn't going anywhere." The Corporal had some medical training, though never finsihed the course. Without an acting medic onboard he would have to make due. He received the loaded rifle from Datorru and traded him with a anti-tank launcher and a cache of missiles. Only a handful had made it through the crash unscathed: Datorru Naga, Barrett Sheppard, Nicholas Lori, and a Staff Sergeant Keith Johnson.

Less than a year ago, Datorru had debated the decision of staying long enough to become a Warrant Officer. He was a specialist in mechanized combat, and proved himself in many situations. Along with the rank came the responsibility of being a leader in the direst of situations, including more time away from home. Of course time home wouldn't be anything special without his girlfriend, and he was more than ready to give up a title for her. Unfortunately she made the choice easy when she left home one day, commenting it was difficult to be with a soldier. Adding insult to injury, she ended up dating another soldier, go figure. Days later, Datorru accepted the promotion.

"Are you sure help is coming Sir?"

Currently, Datorru wasn't even sure if the S.O.S. beacon was even working properly, let alone if any help was coming. Though with the Colonel and several wounded at his command, he had no choice but to keep their hopes up and guide them through this. Together a handful of soldiers would ward of an unknown amount of hostiles. "Of course Corporal, but we're gonna have to hold out until then." He set his launcher down loading a missile into the tube, "Let's hope the enemy is just after our cargo."

"Why's that?"

"Then there's a chance they won't use any heavy artillery against us."