Tarlton woke up with a start to the image of Kaspersky, still out of her SCV suit, rapping his helmet with a wrench.
"Welcome back to the land of the living. You sure do sleep heavy for a Marine."
Tarlton groaned, and sat up. "How long was I out? Is it morning already?"
"About four hours, and you would've been out for longer than that if I hadn't woken you. The Doc got something on the radio- he asked for me to get you."
The huge power armored marine stretched inside his suit, and got up. Sure enough, Ashling was hunched over by the radio, squawking into it in his reserved, polite way. He looked around a moment, and noticed that the Goliath pilot was propped up on Kaspersky's SCV- which had all the panels torn off, with bits of wire hanging out of what looked like suspiciously empty movement servos.
"My god. What'd you do to your suit?"
"Oh, yeah. That. Seems the Goliath's a bit more busted up than I thought. I'm having to cannibalize the old girl to get that hunk of metal moving again. Whatever it takes, I guess."
Tarlton sighed, and closed his helmet visor. They were wasting too much time- they were needed at the front.
Ashling grabbed the radio, and brought it over.
"This message started broadcasting about fifteen minutes ago. I still can't get command- I think something's blocking targeted frequencies."
Tarlton grabbed the radio cord with a huge, gauntleted hand, and plugged the feed into his suit's audio jack. After a brief crackle, the cool, emotionless voice of an AI adjutant started reverberating through his helmet.
"This message was recorded at 6:34, Augustgrad Outpost. All remaining Dominion units in the Northwestern Corridor are to rescind all other priorities and rendezvous with the Sons of Korhal at Outpost West to prepare for a counter-offensive. Message repeat: all units, rendezvous at Outpost West. Do not detour through Outpost Northwest- that position has been compromised. This message was recorded at 6:34, Augustgrad…"
Tarlton unplugged the feed from his suit, and closed his eyes for a moment. A lot of his friends had been stationed at Northwest. He had already known that they were dead- this just confirmed his fears.
"You hear this, Kapersky?" he asked after a moment.
"No, not really. What's going on?"
"We have new orders. We're moving out in an hour. I want that walker up and moving by then."
"The hell? Do you want this thing to break down in the middle of a fight, or what?"
"Not really. But we're moving, Goliath or no, so do what you can. Doctor, how are our medical supplies holding up?"
"I have most of what I need, but we're running low on antibiotics- the pilot's arm keeps trying to necrotize."
"Is he good to travel?"
"Honestly? No. But he doesn't have much of a choice, now does he?"
"No." Tarlton exhaled and closed his eyes, imagining the horrors that he was about the plunge back into. "He doesn't. We're moving out in an hour. The Emperor needs us, and I won't have it said that our squad hid while our brothers died. Be ready."
The marine sergeant picked up his rifle, and slapped a new clip into his magazine, checking for jams and foreign particles just like his instructors had taught him. He was going back into battle- what he had pledged to do when he had donned the uniform of the Dominion Marine Corps. More people were going to die, maybe even him this time, but he managed to remain calm. He believed in what they were fighting for- a united mankind. In this fight, sides were pretty clear. Mankind had to fight the Swarm, or die. That was all that existed. In Tarlton's mind, life was simple. And when life was simple, life was good.