Six Years before the Storm
SFA Battalion 5 Command PostUnder gas attack by Melendi zealots
Specialist David Dedrick
Dedrick had turned at the sound of boots on the sand, and then felt a hand grip his shoulder firmly. Next came a muffled voice, "David, you all right?" The hands that belonged to that voice grasped Dedrick under the shoulders, raising him to his feet. He wiped at the lenses on his hazard mask, but in his heart he knew it wasn't the lenses that blocked his vision.
"Stuckey…" Dedrick croaked.
"Stuckey's done for!" came the reply, louder now. It was Trager, his rigger, and the PFC must have been yelling through his breather. "We've got to get full hazard gear on, David!"
Dedrick heard movement around him, then the sound of fabric tearing. He caught the click of Trager's knife being returned to its sheath, and then the rigger was back, helping Dedrick into his biochem suit.
"We need to get to the command tent!" Trager yelled.
"The battlecomp… " Dedrick said, his voice improving a bit.
"Already got it," came the reply.
Dedrick rose unsteadily to his feet, his arms reaching out like insect antennae, trying to feel his surroundings. One hand caught Trager's shoulder, and the two men moved off toward the LT's tent.
"Where's Sandman?" Dedrick rasped out another question.
Trager snorted, though Dedrick did not so much hear the reaction as feel it through Trager's shoulder. "Giving life back to the desert, would be my bet. And not his own, for sure."
Dedrick felt Trager shift his load, then pull Dedrick's arm more securely across his shoulders. "C'mon, Rick. The guys are mopping this up now, and the LT's frakkin' losin' it… he wants an immediate counterstrike against Melendi. He'll want you in the command tent - even blind you're the best hacker he's got."
Trager turned a grim face toward Dedrick, his expression hidden not only by the hazard mask but also by his friend's blindness. Frak the LT, Trager thought. Doc Slater will be with the LT, and that's the real reason we're headed for the command tent.