Run classrec001216974.07 … Authorization confirmed. Beginning playback…..
NOBLE SIX: I'm here.
CLASSIFIED: I see that. *chuckle* Though I must admit, I didn't hear it.
NOBLE SIX: Let's hurry. I have to get my new (CLASSIFIED) fitted, and the more time I have, the more customization the (CLASSIFIED) will be able to hold.
CLASSIFIED: Well then, let's just try to get past the meeting I assumed you had?
NOBLE SIX: Yes, sir.
As the morning dawned, Six nudged Jun, who had fallen asleep while Six was on watch. "Morning, Jun. Ready to get back our Warthog?"
Jun just grunted and heaved himself upright. "Not a morning kind of person, Six. I need some coffee."
Six rolled his eyes. A SPARTAN, addicted to coffee. But he knew this already, so he tossed him a caffeine-containing food pouch. "Eat this for breakfast than."
Six himself was having what the pouch proudly proclaimed to be 'Eggs and Hashbrowns; Gourmet', but in reality it was more like egg paste with some hashbrown paste mixed in. He quickly finished it, before throwing the package to the ground. Why was it that no one had yet invented a good ration? They'd had 600 years to try.
While he drank some electrolyte fluid, he idly queried his database. It turned out that someone actually had, but the rations kept getting stolen. It was decided that mediocre rations were better than good rations that constantly went missing.
Throwing the fluid package to the ground, he looked up to see Jun doing the same. "Much better," he said. Pulling out his rifle, he inspected it carefully before loading a clip into it. "Ready to roll?"
"Yessir."
Jun clucked as he stood. "I'm not your superior anymore, Six. We might be the only military forces left on the continent. No more ranks until we find a reason to need them."
"Yessir."
The cargo truck started gladly with a rumble, and Bernat started awake, before groaning in pain. Six, wedged in between Jun and Bernat, opened a first-aid kit. "This should patch you up for a few hours," he said as he stuck a biofoam canister into the area where ribs were definitely cracked. For a few moments, the screams that only came from biofoam echoed in the small cab, followed by a long sigh as the pain was replaced by the painkillers and mild narcotics within the biofoam."Now hush."
Jum edged the truck through the gap in the K-rails, and accelerated the truck to dangerous speeds on the other side. It bumped uncontrollably, and Six swore he felt the back fishtail more than a few times. Bernat was screaming, understandably. A cargo truck was not meant to do this.
But it served its purpose, and even as it screeched past the first small homesteads, scrambling figures could be seen outside, caught unawares. With the wailing of brakes, the truck stopped in the small circle at the center of the town. Six and Jun hopped out, guns already surveying the scene.
Within seconds, scuffles and muffled breathing could be heard, and the small impressions of gun barrels appeared on several roofs. Their cover was impressive, but it wouldn't help. Not really.
Six switched on external speakers with a crackle. "Who here speaks English?" he said, swiveling out in a circle.
One man stepped out from a pile of rubble. "I do. But," he pointed a finger menacingly, "You make one wrong move and we'll fill you with lead."
"Somehow, I doubt that," Jun said with a hint of amusement. "We want our Warthog back."
"Warthog? What Warthog?" Neither of them were fooled.
"Ours, the one you stole last night. Serial Number EE-0418658."
"It's ours now. It's needed here."
"Well then," Jun said thoughtfully, "Do you have a greater need for this then... hm, let's see, a certain man named Bernat?"
A gasp could be heard from opposite. "Bernat?" the man demanded. Quickly, he regained his composure. "Let's see him."
"Six?"
He mounted the steps to the truck, and when he emerged he was carrying Bernat by the scruff. "Here he is."
"How do we know he isn't dead?"
Six plunked him on the ground. He looked around fearfully. "Comrades? Are you here to save me?"
With an inner grin, Jun offered, "Proof enough?"
The man sighed. "We'll bring your Warthog." With a series of rapid hand signals, there was scuffling as at least 2 men left the roofs. "It'll be here in a minute."
Six squinted. That was way too many signals for a simple retrieval. There had to be something in the works. "Jun, watch for tricks," he warned softly.
"Roger that, Six," came the reply. He saw Jun's gun raise fractionally up from its position. Six himself put a hand slowly to his M6C holder.
The Warthog returned with a screech next to the leader. Strangely enough, despite the signs of two people leaving, there was only one in the Warthog...
"Now, let Bernat go." Six looked at Jun, who nodded. They both knew the trap about to spring.
With a shove, Bernat stumbled over, but the man yelled, "Down!" and he dropped to the ground. So too, however, did the SPARTANs. The chain gun on the Warthog revved and tore a line in the dirt behind them—center of mass had they stood.
With a boom, the chain gun stopped. Jun stood, gun smoking. Another boom silenced the villagers' leader. "Now, we're going to take our Warthog and continue down this road. Anyone else object?" Absolute silence. "Good."
The men of the town stood in shock as the truck and the Hog rumbled away.
SIX: I have to go, now.
CLASSIFIED: Very well.
*END RECORDING*
Replay? Y/N
