Notes: This chapter pushes the fic's PG-13 rating somewhat. Proceed with caution.
Date: 4/17/0077
Location: Side 6, outside 38 Bunch--Riah
Ensign Nami Iyoku tugged impatiently at the sleeves of her officer's uniform as she waited outside her CO's office. He had called her down shortly beforehand; since they were nearing 38 Bunch, she assumed that this meant he had a job for her to do. This was what she'd been waiting for since she'd graduated from the academy: a chance to prove herself. She had to admit to being frustrated at being stuck on a mere supply runner when others were making history out there, but her time would come. Till then--
The door beside her slid open with a hiss of hydraulics, breaking Nami's train of thought. Taking that as her cue, she stepped inside the office and snapped off a salute to her CO, who was seated behind the desk situated in its center. "You called, sir?"
The officer straightened the papers in the folder he'd been perusing and set it aside, smiling at Nami. "Well, Ensign, this supply run is a little different. Do you think you can handle a little bit of vehicular work?" His tone was neutral; he didn't seem to be expecting her to accept or refuse as a matter of course, which was surprising. "We're doing a drop of some new equipment to the nationalists, and it needs to be piloted. Nothing serious, and you'll be covered by one of the Zakus on the drop... Up to you, Iyoku."
It was an odd request to ask of someone in her position--specifically, that of one who had no experience with anything of the sort--but Nami saw no reason not to accept. This was the chance she'd been waiting for, a way to prove herself to her higher-ups. It wasn't exactly the manner in which she wanted to do it, but if she was being covered by someone more experienced, then things couldn't go too badly. "I'll do it, sir."
He nodded, at her, obviously glad she'd accepted the offer. "Wonderful. Just remember, risks get you further in this world. We have 6 civil defense suits in the bay, and I'll depend on you to help everyone down there. I'm sure you'll do fine. Move out, Ensign." He gave her a salute, and as he lifted up his communicator, Nami returned the salute and left the office. Shortly, an announcement boomed throughout the shuttle. "Attention everyone, we'll be circling over the allied encampment in 4 minutes. Move out to the Drakens and prepare for the drop, all those assigned."
Nami arrived in the bay of the Komusai with time to spare; before boarding the suit she was to pilot, she took a good look at it, being unfamiliar with the machine. While it was bipedal like the Zakus she was more accustomed to seeing, it was considerably smaller, with a less humanoid shape. The machine guns it held were scaled down to the size of the suit, and appeared to be intended for much smaller targets than the Zaku's massive 105-millimeter gun--all in all, it appeared to be a better choice than the Zaku for a mission like this, against enemies who were, for the most part, humans with human-sized weapons.
Above her, a voice blared over the intercom. "You have three minutes to crash course in those things, so start reading those manuals. The skies are clear right now, so we're going to be dropping you while we have the chance."
((Three minutes, huh? Let's see what I can do with it.)) Nami hastened into the cockpit, and by the time the announcement had ended, she'd secured herself in and picked up the manual lying on the cockpit floor. Flipping through it, she began to commit the rather intimidating controls to memory, looking up at the physical mechanisms every so often to help her properly visualize them. Though there was idle chatter going on between a few of the other pilots, the only sound coming from Nami's direction was the sound of pages turning. Three minutes was far too little time for even a crash course, but by the time it ended and the shuttle bay doors began to open, she felt that she was at least ready for a straightforward operation like this one.
This sense of security did not last long. As Nami looked down though the slowly opening doors at the ground far below, the sound of an explosion roared through the bay, and the accompanying shockwave rocked everything aboard. Nami had next to no time to react before thedoors below ripped open and her Draken, its clasps prematurely opened, dropped through and began its inexorable and entirely too fast descent.
((What the--!?)) The manual dropped from her hands and she scrambled for the controls, managing to halt her fall about halfway down. For a few tense moments, she simply hovered there in the little suit, her blood pounding in her ears, as she realized that her skill and luck were all that were between her and a painful death.
The thought was not a reassuring one.
The comm crackled to life, distracting her from her dark thoughts and returning her to a reality that was rapidly becoming worse. The normal chatter was covered by desperate pleas and screams, the source of which soon became clear. Two crashes came from below, the second followed by a cloud of dust from a now-ruined building--two Drakens, whose unlucky pilots had not reacted as quickly as the others, had fallen to their doom. A muffled explosion sounded near Nami, and she peered down to find another of the suits--now missing a leg, probably thanks to Feddie artillery--starting that same long drop.
This last, as close as it had been to her, knocked her back to her senses. She swallowed in a vain attempt to moisten her suddenly dry throat and began to head to the assigned point, descending as fast as she was able to safely; she was a sitting duck up where she was. The com had quieted for the moment, as had the Federation fire, but in its own way, the deathly silence was worse than the chaos from earlier, and Nami struggled to remain calm and remember her "crash course". "Where was that pilot?" she growled, finding that focusing on the logistics of the situation rather than its emotional side helped her state of mind somewhat. "We could've used him just then..."
Before long, Nami's Draken touched down at an intersection, followed by the other two surviving suits. It was peaceful here--almost too much so, considering the fact that the rest of the colony was a war zone. The comm remained silent and, strangely, neither Draken moved; Nami suspected that they weren't sure where to go. It would appear that she would have to take the lead. After a quick look at her surroundings to get her bearings, she started down the street that she was fairly certain the rendezvous point lay down.
Luck was not with her today. Before getting very far, the trio of Drakens encountered a small troop of Feddie soldiers who had managed to find refuge from the revolutionaries. They looked surprised to have crossed paths with the suits, but surprise soon gave way to hostility, and they opened fire on the lead--namely, Nami's.
The small bullets beat like hail on the Draken's armored hull without breaking through, and Nami reached almost absently for the machine gun controls in order to get them out of the way, before halting in mid-motion. This was what she'd wanted to do for some time, and she'd practiced it enough in training, but to actually do it... to kill another human being, Feddies though they might be...
But on further thought, it had to be done. They weren't doing much damage at the moment, but they might eventually wear through the Draken's armor--or they might call for others with heavier artillery. Besides, they were just earthnoids, after all--mere obstacles in the road to Zeonic supremacy. Gritting her teeth, she brought the Draken's machine guns to bear on the soldiers, whose faces began to reflect the realization that they were finished after all, and fired, trying hard to push from her mind the panicked, pleading cries of the doomed Draken pilots and not entirely succeeding.
To say that what ensued was bloody would be an understatement. Despite being scaled down, the Draken's guns were, it would appear, intended for use against armored vehicles and not human targets. The bullets tore through the unfortunate soldiers with hardly any resistance, and Nami was unsure whether the resultant screams came from the dying or the survivors. A few of the quicker ones managed to escape, and Nami had no desire to pursue them; they would be harmless, judging from their current condition, and she'd done enough as it was.
As the survivors fled, she shut her eyes tightly, trying to forget the screams and the spray of scarlet that covered everything around, but the image had burned itself into her mind. There were shouts and gunfire in the distance--the luckless survivors had apparently at last encountered the nationalists. One of the pilots spoke up over the comm, sounding particularly pleased. "Wow, you got 'em. Great job!"
"Let's go on," Nami said roughly, cutting him off before the compliments continued. They were just Feddie scum, but she still didn't like having to do what she'd done. The Drakens tromped onward in silence, Nami hoping that the rest would go smoothly.
The remainder of the trip went without incident, and Nami felt a flood of relief rush through her when she caught sight of the crew they were to deliver the civil defense suits to. The leader waved in front of her own suit, and she opened the cockpit, undid her restraints, and climbed out without hesitation, grateful to get out of the damned thing.
Once more, her luck refused to hold. As her feet touched the ground, yells and gunfire erupted from behind her. There were answering shouts from the colonists, who began to motion for the young officers to take cover. Nami, being unarmed and realizing that her officer's uniform would make her a target, obeyed and hid in the one place she could on the otherwise open street: behind the Draken she'd just vacated. Her cowardice galled her, but she had no choice--she didn't particularly want to risk dying pointlessly. Next to her, behind his Draken, she saw one of the other two officers, but the third hadn't gotten out of his suit yet. ((Strange, that...))
Behind her, the fire fell silent, but was soon replaced by gasps and cries of shock. There was a split second of silence that seemed to last an eternity before the fire returned, much louder this time, as if a larger gun had just been brought into play. Nami shuddered as the screams of the dying reached her, interspersed with the deafening clangs of bullets striking and tearing through metal. Above her, her Draken was being peppered with holes--she was fortunate they hadn't managed to hit where she was. Beside her, the other ensign was looking up and away from her, his face pale. Following his gaze, she swallowed hard, feeling a cold shiver run up her spine, as she saw what had him so distressed. The third Draken, the one that was still occupied, had just taken a round through its cockpit. Almost as though its hatch were translucent, she could picture its pilot sitting there quietly, bent double, perfectly still.
A round crashed through her own Draken's leg, not even a foot above her head--punching through it like paper, she noticed--swiftly bringing her back to reality. Realizing that she might not be so lucky next time, she crouched to make herself a smaller target. Even though this was shaping up to be a total disaster, she still had to try to survive it, though at this point, she was none too certain that she would.
After what felt like forever, the fire died down, settling into an unnerving silence. Against her better judgement, Nami slid silently to her feet, using the Draken's punctured leg as support, and peered around it to take a good look at the damage.
The results of this survey were disheartening, to say the least. The Drakens were bullet-riddled to the point where they resembled nothing so much as cheesecloth, and the young ensign beside her appeared to be in worse shape than Nami herself was. Beyond the three destroyed suits, the street was stained with crimson, in the midst of which lay the bodies of the revolutionaries who'd tried to defend them; many were barely recognizable, and there were things that she was quite frankly glad she didn't recognize. It reminded her forcibly of her assault upon the hapless Feddies she'd encountered; forcing back that recollection, she moved on and was gratified to see a few bodies clothed in red-stained Federation uniforms among the dead. Most of them, however, remained unharmed, and appeared to be proceeding at a leisurely pace towards her and her companion. She only got a brief glimpse of the walking artillery the Feddies had used before feeling cold metal being pressed against the back of her head.
"Get up, and keep your hands up," a masculine voice growled in her ear.
Hesitantly, she obeyed, triggering a burst of snide laughter from the Feddies. A quick glance to her side showed that the other ensign was in a similar situation. She felt her blood rush to her cheeks and bowed her head, trying vainly to hide her shame. This was the last position she'd expected--or, for that matter, desired--to be in; being at the mercy of these Earthnoid scum was almost more than she could bear. Her reactions brought on another chorus of mocking laughter and remarks from the soldiers crowding around the two officers, and she resolved never to show or feel compassion towards them again--why bother extending such courtesies to beasts like these? The spacenoids would prove their superiority in the end, starting with Riah.
She'd nearly decided to do something about her situation, though she might get herself killed in the process, when a familiar metallic crash sounded in the distance, punctuated by the whine of actuators. When it repeated steadily, coming nearer each time, Nami allowed herself a self-satisfied smile. It would appear that her backup had shown up at last. Better late than never, at least.
Around her, the jeering soldiers fell silent at the undoubtedly awe-inspiring sight of the approaching mobile suit, then panic began to set in. "It's the Zeon Zaku! Fall back!" Forgetting about their 'spoils', they fled hastily, taking their new weapon with them.
As Nami dusted off her uniform sleeves, she noticed the young officer staring up at the occupied Draken. In a rather more subdued tone than before, he said, "I thought this was going to be something easy. They didn't tell us about this..." He paused for a moment. "What did he do to deserve that?"
"He was a Zeke, like us." Nami's tone was bitter; though she had been a little shaken up earlier, now that she was out of danger, that was starting to become supplanted by a righteous fury. "They don't need any other reason."
The Zaku arrived on the site before long, and set a hand on the ground for the two officers to climb onto. Nami clambered onto it, pulling her ally along, and let herself become lost in thought during the ride back to base. Apparently, the Feddies' weapon wouldn't do much good against a real threat like the Zaku; though the mission was a failure otherwise, they had at least gotten the chance to see it and assure themselves of that. She knew, too, that she had gone 'above and beyond the call of duty' and would probably get some kind of acknowledgment for it... maybe even--dared she hope?--a promotion.
The prospect cheered Nami a bit. This had been a life-altering experience, but at least not all the alterations would be negative. She recalled a remark Ian had made once at the Academy: (('Funny how medals come from accidents and coincidence, isn't it?')) It had been a bit discouraging then, but now it didn't seem so bad. Every situation had to have its positive side, and this could only help her in the long run. Now that her resolve had been hardened, she couldn't help but see a bright future ahead, both for herself and for her homeland.
Note: The "walking artillery" was a MG-4 Depagg mobile platform.
Date: 4/17/0077
Location: Side 6, outside 38 Bunch--Riah
Ensign Nami Iyoku tugged impatiently at the sleeves of her officer's uniform as she waited outside her CO's office. He had called her down shortly beforehand; since they were nearing 38 Bunch, she assumed that this meant he had a job for her to do. This was what she'd been waiting for since she'd graduated from the academy: a chance to prove herself. She had to admit to being frustrated at being stuck on a mere supply runner when others were making history out there, but her time would come. Till then--
The door beside her slid open with a hiss of hydraulics, breaking Nami's train of thought. Taking that as her cue, she stepped inside the office and snapped off a salute to her CO, who was seated behind the desk situated in its center. "You called, sir?"
The officer straightened the papers in the folder he'd been perusing and set it aside, smiling at Nami. "Well, Ensign, this supply run is a little different. Do you think you can handle a little bit of vehicular work?" His tone was neutral; he didn't seem to be expecting her to accept or refuse as a matter of course, which was surprising. "We're doing a drop of some new equipment to the nationalists, and it needs to be piloted. Nothing serious, and you'll be covered by one of the Zakus on the drop... Up to you, Iyoku."
It was an odd request to ask of someone in her position--specifically, that of one who had no experience with anything of the sort--but Nami saw no reason not to accept. This was the chance she'd been waiting for, a way to prove herself to her higher-ups. It wasn't exactly the manner in which she wanted to do it, but if she was being covered by someone more experienced, then things couldn't go too badly. "I'll do it, sir."
He nodded, at her, obviously glad she'd accepted the offer. "Wonderful. Just remember, risks get you further in this world. We have 6 civil defense suits in the bay, and I'll depend on you to help everyone down there. I'm sure you'll do fine. Move out, Ensign." He gave her a salute, and as he lifted up his communicator, Nami returned the salute and left the office. Shortly, an announcement boomed throughout the shuttle. "Attention everyone, we'll be circling over the allied encampment in 4 minutes. Move out to the Drakens and prepare for the drop, all those assigned."
Nami arrived in the bay of the Komusai with time to spare; before boarding the suit she was to pilot, she took a good look at it, being unfamiliar with the machine. While it was bipedal like the Zakus she was more accustomed to seeing, it was considerably smaller, with a less humanoid shape. The machine guns it held were scaled down to the size of the suit, and appeared to be intended for much smaller targets than the Zaku's massive 105-millimeter gun--all in all, it appeared to be a better choice than the Zaku for a mission like this, against enemies who were, for the most part, humans with human-sized weapons.
Above her, a voice blared over the intercom. "You have three minutes to crash course in those things, so start reading those manuals. The skies are clear right now, so we're going to be dropping you while we have the chance."
((Three minutes, huh? Let's see what I can do with it.)) Nami hastened into the cockpit, and by the time the announcement had ended, she'd secured herself in and picked up the manual lying on the cockpit floor. Flipping through it, she began to commit the rather intimidating controls to memory, looking up at the physical mechanisms every so often to help her properly visualize them. Though there was idle chatter going on between a few of the other pilots, the only sound coming from Nami's direction was the sound of pages turning. Three minutes was far too little time for even a crash course, but by the time it ended and the shuttle bay doors began to open, she felt that she was at least ready for a straightforward operation like this one.
This sense of security did not last long. As Nami looked down though the slowly opening doors at the ground far below, the sound of an explosion roared through the bay, and the accompanying shockwave rocked everything aboard. Nami had next to no time to react before thedoors below ripped open and her Draken, its clasps prematurely opened, dropped through and began its inexorable and entirely too fast descent.
((What the--!?)) The manual dropped from her hands and she scrambled for the controls, managing to halt her fall about halfway down. For a few tense moments, she simply hovered there in the little suit, her blood pounding in her ears, as she realized that her skill and luck were all that were between her and a painful death.
The thought was not a reassuring one.
The comm crackled to life, distracting her from her dark thoughts and returning her to a reality that was rapidly becoming worse. The normal chatter was covered by desperate pleas and screams, the source of which soon became clear. Two crashes came from below, the second followed by a cloud of dust from a now-ruined building--two Drakens, whose unlucky pilots had not reacted as quickly as the others, had fallen to their doom. A muffled explosion sounded near Nami, and she peered down to find another of the suits--now missing a leg, probably thanks to Feddie artillery--starting that same long drop.
This last, as close as it had been to her, knocked her back to her senses. She swallowed in a vain attempt to moisten her suddenly dry throat and began to head to the assigned point, descending as fast as she was able to safely; she was a sitting duck up where she was. The com had quieted for the moment, as had the Federation fire, but in its own way, the deathly silence was worse than the chaos from earlier, and Nami struggled to remain calm and remember her "crash course". "Where was that pilot?" she growled, finding that focusing on the logistics of the situation rather than its emotional side helped her state of mind somewhat. "We could've used him just then..."
Before long, Nami's Draken touched down at an intersection, followed by the other two surviving suits. It was peaceful here--almost too much so, considering the fact that the rest of the colony was a war zone. The comm remained silent and, strangely, neither Draken moved; Nami suspected that they weren't sure where to go. It would appear that she would have to take the lead. After a quick look at her surroundings to get her bearings, she started down the street that she was fairly certain the rendezvous point lay down.
Luck was not with her today. Before getting very far, the trio of Drakens encountered a small troop of Feddie soldiers who had managed to find refuge from the revolutionaries. They looked surprised to have crossed paths with the suits, but surprise soon gave way to hostility, and they opened fire on the lead--namely, Nami's.
The small bullets beat like hail on the Draken's armored hull without breaking through, and Nami reached almost absently for the machine gun controls in order to get them out of the way, before halting in mid-motion. This was what she'd wanted to do for some time, and she'd practiced it enough in training, but to actually do it... to kill another human being, Feddies though they might be...
But on further thought, it had to be done. They weren't doing much damage at the moment, but they might eventually wear through the Draken's armor--or they might call for others with heavier artillery. Besides, they were just earthnoids, after all--mere obstacles in the road to Zeonic supremacy. Gritting her teeth, she brought the Draken's machine guns to bear on the soldiers, whose faces began to reflect the realization that they were finished after all, and fired, trying hard to push from her mind the panicked, pleading cries of the doomed Draken pilots and not entirely succeeding.
To say that what ensued was bloody would be an understatement. Despite being scaled down, the Draken's guns were, it would appear, intended for use against armored vehicles and not human targets. The bullets tore through the unfortunate soldiers with hardly any resistance, and Nami was unsure whether the resultant screams came from the dying or the survivors. A few of the quicker ones managed to escape, and Nami had no desire to pursue them; they would be harmless, judging from their current condition, and she'd done enough as it was.
As the survivors fled, she shut her eyes tightly, trying to forget the screams and the spray of scarlet that covered everything around, but the image had burned itself into her mind. There were shouts and gunfire in the distance--the luckless survivors had apparently at last encountered the nationalists. One of the pilots spoke up over the comm, sounding particularly pleased. "Wow, you got 'em. Great job!"
"Let's go on," Nami said roughly, cutting him off before the compliments continued. They were just Feddie scum, but she still didn't like having to do what she'd done. The Drakens tromped onward in silence, Nami hoping that the rest would go smoothly.
The remainder of the trip went without incident, and Nami felt a flood of relief rush through her when she caught sight of the crew they were to deliver the civil defense suits to. The leader waved in front of her own suit, and she opened the cockpit, undid her restraints, and climbed out without hesitation, grateful to get out of the damned thing.
Once more, her luck refused to hold. As her feet touched the ground, yells and gunfire erupted from behind her. There were answering shouts from the colonists, who began to motion for the young officers to take cover. Nami, being unarmed and realizing that her officer's uniform would make her a target, obeyed and hid in the one place she could on the otherwise open street: behind the Draken she'd just vacated. Her cowardice galled her, but she had no choice--she didn't particularly want to risk dying pointlessly. Next to her, behind his Draken, she saw one of the other two officers, but the third hadn't gotten out of his suit yet. ((Strange, that...))
Behind her, the fire fell silent, but was soon replaced by gasps and cries of shock. There was a split second of silence that seemed to last an eternity before the fire returned, much louder this time, as if a larger gun had just been brought into play. Nami shuddered as the screams of the dying reached her, interspersed with the deafening clangs of bullets striking and tearing through metal. Above her, her Draken was being peppered with holes--she was fortunate they hadn't managed to hit where she was. Beside her, the other ensign was looking up and away from her, his face pale. Following his gaze, she swallowed hard, feeling a cold shiver run up her spine, as she saw what had him so distressed. The third Draken, the one that was still occupied, had just taken a round through its cockpit. Almost as though its hatch were translucent, she could picture its pilot sitting there quietly, bent double, perfectly still.
A round crashed through her own Draken's leg, not even a foot above her head--punching through it like paper, she noticed--swiftly bringing her back to reality. Realizing that she might not be so lucky next time, she crouched to make herself a smaller target. Even though this was shaping up to be a total disaster, she still had to try to survive it, though at this point, she was none too certain that she would.
After what felt like forever, the fire died down, settling into an unnerving silence. Against her better judgement, Nami slid silently to her feet, using the Draken's punctured leg as support, and peered around it to take a good look at the damage.
The results of this survey were disheartening, to say the least. The Drakens were bullet-riddled to the point where they resembled nothing so much as cheesecloth, and the young ensign beside her appeared to be in worse shape than Nami herself was. Beyond the three destroyed suits, the street was stained with crimson, in the midst of which lay the bodies of the revolutionaries who'd tried to defend them; many were barely recognizable, and there were things that she was quite frankly glad she didn't recognize. It reminded her forcibly of her assault upon the hapless Feddies she'd encountered; forcing back that recollection, she moved on and was gratified to see a few bodies clothed in red-stained Federation uniforms among the dead. Most of them, however, remained unharmed, and appeared to be proceeding at a leisurely pace towards her and her companion. She only got a brief glimpse of the walking artillery the Feddies had used before feeling cold metal being pressed against the back of her head.
"Get up, and keep your hands up," a masculine voice growled in her ear.
Hesitantly, she obeyed, triggering a burst of snide laughter from the Feddies. A quick glance to her side showed that the other ensign was in a similar situation. She felt her blood rush to her cheeks and bowed her head, trying vainly to hide her shame. This was the last position she'd expected--or, for that matter, desired--to be in; being at the mercy of these Earthnoid scum was almost more than she could bear. Her reactions brought on another chorus of mocking laughter and remarks from the soldiers crowding around the two officers, and she resolved never to show or feel compassion towards them again--why bother extending such courtesies to beasts like these? The spacenoids would prove their superiority in the end, starting with Riah.
She'd nearly decided to do something about her situation, though she might get herself killed in the process, when a familiar metallic crash sounded in the distance, punctuated by the whine of actuators. When it repeated steadily, coming nearer each time, Nami allowed herself a self-satisfied smile. It would appear that her backup had shown up at last. Better late than never, at least.
Around her, the jeering soldiers fell silent at the undoubtedly awe-inspiring sight of the approaching mobile suit, then panic began to set in. "It's the Zeon Zaku! Fall back!" Forgetting about their 'spoils', they fled hastily, taking their new weapon with them.
As Nami dusted off her uniform sleeves, she noticed the young officer staring up at the occupied Draken. In a rather more subdued tone than before, he said, "I thought this was going to be something easy. They didn't tell us about this..." He paused for a moment. "What did he do to deserve that?"
"He was a Zeke, like us." Nami's tone was bitter; though she had been a little shaken up earlier, now that she was out of danger, that was starting to become supplanted by a righteous fury. "They don't need any other reason."
The Zaku arrived on the site before long, and set a hand on the ground for the two officers to climb onto. Nami clambered onto it, pulling her ally along, and let herself become lost in thought during the ride back to base. Apparently, the Feddies' weapon wouldn't do much good against a real threat like the Zaku; though the mission was a failure otherwise, they had at least gotten the chance to see it and assure themselves of that. She knew, too, that she had gone 'above and beyond the call of duty' and would probably get some kind of acknowledgment for it... maybe even--dared she hope?--a promotion.
The prospect cheered Nami a bit. This had been a life-altering experience, but at least not all the alterations would be negative. She recalled a remark Ian had made once at the Academy: (('Funny how medals come from accidents and coincidence, isn't it?')) It had been a bit discouraging then, but now it didn't seem so bad. Every situation had to have its positive side, and this could only help her in the long run. Now that her resolve had been hardened, she couldn't help but see a bright future ahead, both for herself and for her homeland.
Note: The "walking artillery" was a MG-4 Depagg mobile platform.