All true bending masters experienced a certain affinity to their element. Pakku was no exception. The feeling of millions of litres of water flash-boiling hit him like a sack of wet sand. He gasped, hunching convulsively in the tiny cave of ice. His breath frosted against the rough surfaces of the tunnel. He'd dug straight down, piercing through the relatively soft surface ice that was the basis of the Water Tribe capital, and through to the real permafrost; iron-hard ice that hadn't seen the light of day for millennia. He didn't know how deep he was, but he still felt the shockwave judder through the ice.
"Oh, spirits."
Even as most of his mind buzzed with panic, a small part of it- the same part that had saved his life countless times in battle- chimed in. The city was mostly empty, wasn't it? Arnook had declared a potlatch to celebrate the birth of his second daughter, and most of the people had gone out on barges to watch the kayak racing. He calmed down a little, forcing himself to stop hyperventilating. Another part of his brain, even deeper than the first, whispered that something about it was familiar. That smell. That oily smell. It wasn't just Fire Nation. The Fire Nation burned things, but they didn't spread clouds.
The boy in orange- Eng- got to his feet, a serious expression on his face. For the second time, Al got the feeling that he had hidden depths; his eyes were too old. And those tattoos...? He gestured to Al and Ed, then over to an area of grass that had been untouched by the effects of the alchemy. The rest of the group gathered around , but Al noticed that they all kept a respectful distance. There was a note of wariness in their eyes... and was that fear?
"Brother, I think something important's about to happen."
"You're getting that too? Oh boy."
Eng motioned for them to both sit in an awkward cross-legged stance. Al felt his knees pop, and heard Ed curse under his breath as the joint of his automail protested. Eng kept glancing at the mechanical limb; judging from the general technology level of this place, he guessed that automail was an unfamiliar sight. That said, there was a hint of... familiarity in Eng's eyes. The boy cleared his throat, then began to speak, gesturing as he did so.
"Okay, so it's something about talking...", Ed said, keeping his voice slow and clear.
Ed mimed a similar gesture back, and Eng nodded. Then he touched his forehead, pointed to Al and Ed's, and did the same talking sign.
"Head-talking? Brain-talking?", Al said slowly. This language barrier was a pain.
"Telepathy?", his brother interjected, face set but tone less than serious.
"Ed, this isn't a bad science fiction serial. Be reasonable."
Ed gave him a look that was less than reasonable.
"Al, we just got telealchemically portation'd into what might be a completely different planet.", he muttered, voice tense. "We're surrounded by people who can do incredibly weird things without using alchemy, and they're all armed. It's either telepathy or 'punch everything and hope for the best'."
Al sighed. He had a point.
"Okay, okay. I understand. Be patient. It's going to be okay."
Eng politely waited for them to finish speaking, then made a calming gesture. He began to breathe deeply and regularly, indicating that the brothers should do the same. Al did so. It wasn't entirely comfortable, and he began to feel lightheaded. Any further thought was interrupted when Eng's tattoos began to glow with pale blue light. Ed stumbled upright, yelping, his arms flailing. Al stayed put, although most of his instincts were telling him to run. The orange-clad boy's expression had shifted from serene peace to a sort of statue-like scowl, not entirely similar to those on the masks that Lan Fan had once worn. The boy's eyes opened, and Al gasped as he saw that they were merely solid pools of the same blue light. The thing- for what sat across from him was definitely not a boy anymore- leaned forwards, rising out of its meditative seat, and placed its palm against Al's forehead. He gasped in shock as something entered his mind. His vision blurred, and he fell away into a bizarre, abstract landscape.
"Mein gott."
Aang dove into the boy's mind with caution, unsure of what he'd find. It was in every way different from Ozai's. That had been a roaring inferno of ambition and psychosis, tearing at itself, always unstable. This mind was... he wouldn't have used the word mechanical, but that was what it looked like. It was a drifting mindscape of metal and golden lightning, travelling in carefully arranged patterns. As he drifted through the teenager's mind, he tried to project sensations of calm, of safety of reassurance. Nonetheless, he could feel panic, and fear, and a blind desire to strike out; thankfully, they were quickly repressed. The teenager had iron self-control, unlike anything he'd seen before. He projected the concept of name, of identity, and got Alphonse Elric back. Curiously, there were two images following the name; one was the boy himself, and the other was a suit of armour, brutally angular. He felt a dim shock on his physical body, and pulled out of Alphonse's mind, snapping back to reality. The influence of the other Avatars in his mind distorted his vision, but he could see the course of the commotion clearly enough. The other teenager, the one with the machine leg, was struggling against Sokka and Zuko's hold, trying to get at him. His eyes were filled with blind rage, and Aang was sure that what he was screaming were profanities. Alphonse gasped, returning to himself, and spoke a few cutting words. The other not-bender relaxed a little, glaring at Aang, but nonetheless ceasing to struggle. Aang made eye contact with the other teenager.
"A-Alphonse."
He nodded. Aang raised his hands, and dove back in. Back in the mindscape, he put out more ideas.
"Ed Va Dhe?"
"Edward Elric. Brother. Protector. Friend."
The disjointed series of images was confusing to sort through, but its meaning was obvious enough. He tried something a little more abstract.
"Home?"
"Amestris. Risembool. Safe. Winry. Pinako. Central. Danger."
He saw visions of a huge city, paved in stone. The buildings, squarer than he was accustomed to. Flashes of maps. A girl, her hair the same peculiar shade of yellow-brown. A vision of a machine, its surface sparking with lightning. A field of blank whiteness, quickly suppressed. Hundreds of associated thoughts crowded his perception, concepts he couldn't process without a language. Nonetheless, he pressed on.
"Bending?"
There was a long pause, along with purple clouds of confusion that drifted among the impossible electrical arcs. The answer, when it came, was hesitant.
"Bending?"
"Bending. Elements. . Power. Gift. Control."
"Control. Elements. Alchemy. TRUTH. Alchemy. Power. Danger. TRUTH. Gate. Destruction. Soul. Exchange. TRUTH."
Whatever the TRUTH was, it was associated with 'alchemy', and both were both powerful and incredibly dangerous. There was a spot of complete blackness, buried deep within Alphonse's mind, and when Aang tried to approach it, he was quickly rebuffed by ARMOR. The mindscape resounded as barriers of thought-metal clanged tight over the point of darkness and flung him back into the outer layers the teenager's mind. There was a note of warning, of reproach. TRUTH was not to be approached. Aang continued to drift through his memories and thoughts, feeling the link between them grow more efficient as they came to understand the workings of each other's minds.
"Speech? Language? Talk? Understanding?"
"Desire for comprehension. Understanding of basic concepts. Learning."
"Gift. Teaching. Caution. Danger. Willing?"
"Yes. Necessity of risk."
Aang concentrated, reaching into his own mind, and pulling at what he thought was Language. Reaching into Ozai to pull out Fire had been a matter of brute force- quenching the fires of Ozai's mind just long enough to destroy what fuelled them. This was more difficult. More invasive, but also more delicate. Hundreds of Avatars in his mind chattered and argued, building up towering pillars of consensus and opinion which shifted constantly. A multitude of voices, each with something to say. Slowly, they reached an opinion. Bring his concept of Language to Al's. Let them co-mix and mingle.
"Comprehension?"
All he got back from Alphonse was mental static as the patterns in the electricity shifted. Then Aang felt it too. Learning. Comprehension. Amestrian. It was like being a child, learning to talk, but all so quickly. His mind was flooded with information. He pulled back from Alphonse, resurfacing in the real world, gasping and shivering as his mind screamed, trying to compensate from a literal overdose of knowledge. The boy across from him was pale and shivering, and Aang, beneath his mental anguish, could feel his body protesting. He locked eyes with Alphonse- wait. A sliver of information dragged itself into his brain. Al. Just Al. He locked eye with Al, and there was an expectant silence. The yellow- no, blonde- haired boy licked his lips, drawing in a shuddering breath.
"Y-you... unders-stand?"
Aang couldn't help but beam as he nodded. Al smiled back, giggling nervously. Then he spoke to his brother.
"Ed- brain- speech- know- talk- understand- all right!"
Aang's understanding was still spotty, his brain trying to match up what it had learned to what it was hearing. He had to force himself back into a Common-speaking mindset before he could continue.
"Guys, it worked! I got into his head, and he can understand us!"
Sokka pumped his fist.
"Yes! Score one for team Avatar!"
"Avatar? What... is- is that?", Al said, obviously trying extremely hard to get the tones right. Aand could understand his confusion. Their language- Amestrian. It was so- so atonal. There was no music to it. No pitching, no rhythm. It was guttural. In some ways, more complex.
Al cocked his head. Aang made a placating gesture.
"Hold on. We've got a lot to explain, but we've got to get your brother talking."
Al nodded, slowly.
"Y-yes. Ah, I, uh, understand. Wait."
He stood up, shakily, and...
"Brother. Sit down. He's- help. -a threat. It's more like telepathy- were right."
Ed scowled.
"No way. I'm not letting him- my mind. It's unnatural. You saw- glowing. Like- homunculus."
Al fixed his brother with a cold stare, put his hand on the shorter boy's shoulder, and actually pushed him to the ground. He turned to Aang and gave an apologetic grin.
"Ed- is- is- difficult. Stubborn. Sometimes."
Ed said something too fast to follow, and Al snapped back at him.
"Brother. Now is not the time."
Aang swallowed, realizing he wasn't entirely clear what language he was hearing anymore. He forced his lips into the uncomfortable shapes of Amestrian.
"Relax. I-it will be fine. Ed, I need to s-see the inside of your mind."
Ed only scowled more, but he did allow Aang to place his hand on his forehead and only jumped a little when he went back into the Avatar State. Ed's mind was eerily similar to his sibling's. Instead of lightning and metal, it was lightning and stone. Weirdly spiky stone statues actually, all monster-looking. Very skeletal. His brain told him gothic. Unlike Al's mind, there were two black pits of danger; one was Truth, the other... Aang tried very hard not to laugh, but his suppressed amusement earned him a needle of anger from Ed.
"Short? Really?"
"NO NO NO."
"O-kay. Should be able to words. Understand?"
"Y- can hear- sense- not- short."
"My words, your head?"
"..."
"My words, your head? Please?"
"Fine."
The transition of information was much less jarring now that Aang knew what he was doing, but when he dropped out of Ed's mind, and the Avatar state, he found the Amestrian panting and sweating just as much as his brother.
"Ed? Al? You can understand me? Yeah?", Aang said, licking his lips.
Al, who'd regained much of his colour, nodded once more, with much more enthusiasm.
"I understand you, Aang."
"Woah. This is. Woah woah woahaaaargh.",
Ed dry-heaved, his hands clasped over his mouth. After a few frantic seconds, he seemed to regain his composure, clamping down on his nausea with an stony wall of stubborn composure.
"Brother!" Al was in close, one arm wrapped tightly against his older sibling.
"Wait. I- I'm okay. Oh gott."
The word wasn't in Common, but Aang knew that its connotation was somewhat similar to 'spirits'. Or, in this case something far ruder.
"I'm not even speaking Amestrian, am I Al."
"Nope."
"B-but now I am."
"Yep."
"Okay wow this is so weird. Are you sure we're not dreaming?"
Aang couldn't resist a smile as he spoke, switching automatically to the guttural Amestrian.
"You're not dreaming, Edward Elric."
Ed took a deep breath.
"Okay. I can understand you. You can all understand me?"
The reactions in the group were mixed. Sokka smiled his most enthusiastic 'I just discovered something neat' smile. Zuko nodded, grinning. Katara beamed warily. Mai... raised a single eyebrow.
"Yep."
"Yes! Nice to talk to you!"
"Wow. You're actually talking!"
"Hmph. Neato."
"They can understand you, Brother."
Aang stood up, feeling the scar on his lower back twinge a little.
"We've got a lot to talk about, you two."
Pakku gasped when he hit the sea; the water was warm, clouded with detritus and soot. He launched towards the surface, rising out of the brackish sea on a column of foam. The city... the city was gone. The immense walls, the elegant buildings, the graceful bridges; all vanished, subsumed into a gigantic circular crater filled with filthy sea water. The air was surprisingly clear; there was a faint haze of smoke and a thin, clammy fog of evaporated water. Pakku floated to the nearest approximation of solid ground; it was the wreck of the docked Fire Nation airship, its spars and frame protruding from the water like the bones of a beached whale. The whole structure creaked when he transferred his weight on to it, but it seemed stable enough. His mind was completely blank; shocked beyond comprehension. It was all gone. He was shaken from his reverie by the sounds of movement, deeper in the wreckage. Swinging himself over a beam, he clambered down into the hulk of the airship, working his way around jagged spikes of metal and huge sheets of torn hull material.
"H-help. Anyone? Oh, Agni."
The voice emanated from under a collapsed beam. Pakku hefted it aside, gasping at what he saw underneath.
"You're Fire Nation."
"Oh thank the spirits you found me. I- I think I'm okay, but what happened?! Oh Agni, the airship! What happened?!"
"You're Fire Nation."
"Yeah, and? I- I'm just an engineer! H-hey!"
"Fire Nation airships destroy my city, and you think you can claim innocence! You're dead!"
Ignoring the protests and cries of the engineer, Pakku moved in, jagged shards of ice whipping around him.
"Master Pakku of the Water Tribe. Stop this."
He was brought to a dead halt, the ice falling out of the air. The hole in reality was stable, regular, its barriers defined by a simple set of incorporeal wooden gateposts. The Fire Nation trooper gawped.
"What the hells-?"
Pakku killed him with a gesture, moving closer to the gate. The figure on the other side was faint, only the fuzzy impression of two huge, liquid eyes visible.
"Pakku, the Ember is moving. We need you here, now."
"B-but the city! The spirits! Oh, Sedna! Tui and La!"
"They will be fine. We've maintained security over the Spirit Oasis The safety of the Water Tribe is secondary at this point. The city is merely a city. Transfer over now."
"I'll need to speak to Arnook. Do we have word from any of the other elders?"
"They are being gathered. You do not have time. We are expanding the gateway. The Order of the White Lotus is going to war."
Pakku felt the metal beneath his feet slip away. He was falling.
General Zuolin popped the hatch of the H-Yi, feeling the gritty desert wind play across his sand goggles. Before him stretched the vast expanse of Earth Army Base Si Wong. The military heart of the Earth Kingdom, home of the advanced technologies which he himself had pioneered. The heavy tank churned its way across the dunes, its wide, stone-coated tracks kicking up a spray of sand. Everything seemed to be clear. Just dunes. He turned back, noting the other two H-Yis in formation. The field tests were going well. There was the flash of a signal flag.
[Confirm live weapons?]
He seized the multicoloured flags from their sheaths, and gave a quick wave back.
[Confirm. Three minutes.]
He ducked back into the cupola, screwing the hatch shut behind him. The interior of the tank was dimly lit by the luminescent green crystals bolted to the walls, and he had to duck to avoid the low-hanging ballista bolt rack as he made his way to the driver's position. The cramped space was filled with the continuous clanking and rumble of the earthbending engine in the back- a thin granite disk, set spinning by the actions of the two earthbender engineers.
"Driver?"
"Yessir."
"Slow to combat speed. We're starting the live fire tests momentarily."
Zuolin moved into his command couch, clipping himself into the seat.
"Full battle stations. Run out the ballistae. Non-earthbending weaponry only."
The last order was redundant; they hadn't loaded the tanks with any stone except for the granite plates built into the armour. Nonetheless, the crew bustled to life. The hatches on the forward and rear turrets were cranked open as the bow crews pushed the Fire Nation-designed automatic ballistae forwards, their throwing arms clipping on to the stabilisers built into the walls of the turrets. The racks of bolts were clipped in, and the bowmen moved to their spotting position. The signalman/spotter popped up into the rear cupola, keeping a careful eye on the other two tanks in the formation
"Sir, units 2 and 3 are readied and in formation. First target is coming up at 275 degrees, range 250."
The targets were a series of tall, irregular boulders the crews of the tanks had left behind on their previous trial run, ready to be used as target practice.
"Bowmen, load blasting-tipped bolts. Fire when ready."
The two ballistae fired, humming and cracking as their bolts were launched. There was a muffled explosion, and...
"Five direct hits. Second shot from unit 3 was a little short."
Zuolin nodded.
"Good. Move to second target, prep for rapid-fire. Let's see if these autoloaders actually work."
Tanker Sergeant Oi Hara sighted down the periscope, twiddling the sighting knob. Switching to the optigraph station, he flashed out a quick confirmation message to the other five tanks in the Ember Group Roaring Dragon-class squadron. Satisfied by the response, he switched back to the main periscope.
"Kego, load a PAC shell. Keep the pressure at 950 pascals. Chiha, left fifteen degrees, elevation... hmmm. Seven degrees?"
The projector operator, Chiha, leaned to the periscope.
"Give it seven point two. Just to be sure. Aaaand... Range one and a half kilometres."
He dialled in the elevation on the steam projector's mount as Oi rotated the turret, the steam-powered hydraulics hissing as it rotated. Oi glanced down at Teke in the driver's seat.
"Get ready to get into motion to hit them from the rear. We need to be moving as soon as the shells've left the projectors."
The driver nodded, giving one last check over the controls in his piloting blister.
"Gotcha, sarge."
Oi turned back to the periscope, and saw the flash of the optigraph from the command tank.
"Fire!"
The turret shuddered as Chiha punched the trigger, sending a six-centimeter wide shell hurtling towards the Earth Kingdom heavy tanks. There was a brief puff of smoke as the shots impacted, but nothing more.
"Looks like it bounced. Damn. All right, load blasting shells, fire when ready. And get us moving!"
The tank clanked to life, its powerful steam engines sending it surging forward. The cabin space was filled with the clanking of treads and the puff of the engines, forcing Teke to yell.
"Sergeant, we're coming around now. Still well out of range of their ballistae, by the looks."
Kego plunked a red-marked shell into the chamber of the projector, then turned back to the engine control panel. He opened the boiler, and gave the fire roaring within a quick burst of his Firebending.
"Shell's loaded. Steam tanks will be ready any second!"
There was a short, peeping whistle from the mass of tubing that surrounded the steam projector. Chiha hit the trigger.
The second volley from the tank squadron was nowhere near as accurate as the first, but it didn't need to be. There was no burst of white smoke, this time. If the huge, roiling clouds of flame and smoke were any indication, the other commanders had done the same as Oi and loaded the blasting-jelly shells.
"So. You're something like our benders. And your country, Amestris, used you guys as soldiers. And you overthrew your crazy leader before he could kill everyone in your country and become a god. And now you're stuck here."
"Yep. That's about right."
Sokka just blinked at Al, letting out a long, slow breath.
"Wow, and I thought we had it rough."
As the sun set, they'd moved inside, and had taken up residence in one of the smallish, but opulently comfortable, suites that dotted the Fire Lord's palace. Ed was sprawled lazily on a pile of cushions, while Al sat next to him, trying his hand at writing the Common script.
"There's more to it than that, Brother. Um, Katara, that does spell 'My name is Alphonse', right?"
Katara took the sheet of paper from him, glancing over it and handing it back with a pleased expression on her face.
"Very good! You're learning fast!"
"Katara, you're being a mom again.", Zuko said wryly.
"Zuko...", she tisked back.
There was a polite knock at the door, and it slid open, revealing two palace guards and a very dishevelled-looking man in water tribe dress. If his sickly visage and baggy eyes were any indication, he obviously hadn't slept in some time. The lead guard ushered him forwards.
"Firelord, this man's ship just arrived in harbour, along with the partial crew of one of our courier airships. He has a message from Arnook of the Northern Water Tribe."
Zuko was on his feet in an instant.
"This isn't normal. Something's gone wrong. What happened? Oh, spirits, what happened?"
The sailor gulp, then began to speak, his voice tired but frantic.
"My name is Iluq. I'm the vice-chief of a Northern Water tribe warband. It happened about a week ago. We were making our way to the potlatch to celebrate the birth of High Chief Arnook's daughter. We were an hour out of harbour, heading to the mouth of the Cikuq river where the gathering was gonna be, when... there was this blast of sound, and light, and heat. Then there was a wave. I- it swamped us, but we managed to get the boat upright. The wave had come from the city. We- we went back, and oh spirits, it's gone. The- the whole city is gone. Just a great big hole in the sea."
There was a horrified silence. Katara broke it.
"What about the tribe? Is everyone all right?!"
Iluq nodded, his lower lip trembling.
"I- we think so. The city was b-basically empty, except for the guards and the traders at the airship docks. Our ship was one of the last out. We were going to wait for Pakku, but he said that he'd catch up with us l-later, and..."
"Master Pakku! Is he all right?", Katara gasped.
"We don't know. No one's found him."
There was another horrified silence. It was Aang's turn to break it, this time.
"What about the Spirit Oasis? Tui and La?"
"And Yue!?", Sokka interjected, voice on the edge of breaking.
"According to Arnook they're all right. I saw nothing, sir."
"But why did you come here?", Zuko queried.
"A-Arnook and the tribe came back. Most of the ships had been pretty banged up, but ours was still seaworthy. He ordered everyone to go south, to spread the word. We brought the Firebenders back, too."
He fumbled in a pocket of his grimy parka, removing a thin scroll. Wordlessly, he handed it to Zuko. The Fire Lord read it, his face hardening into a grim mask.
Fire Lord Zuko,
I have never met you in person, but I hear from my ambassadors and from the Avatar himself that you are a peaceful man. The events which my messenger has recounted to you are a display of warlike intent unlike any I have ever borne witness to. I am aware that the destruction of my city was done by airships of a type similar to those formerly used as weapons of war by your father. The Firebenders caught in the blast claim that they knew of no military airships in the world. I am tempted to believe them. I do not believe you capable of such a heinous act of destruction and unprovoked aggression. As such, it is my intention to aid you as best I can in order to hunt down and destroy those who have committed this grave crime. Nonetheless, should it become apparent to me that the army of the Fire Nation was responsible for the actions against my people, I will not hesitate to reopen hostilities with your kingdom. My tribe does not let acts of murder and wanton destruction go unpunished.
-High Chief Arnook
Clank. WHAM!
Oi shook in his seat as another explosive ballistae bolt bounced off the Roaring Dragon's thick armour and exploded in midair.
"Anything?"
Kego shook the sweat from his soot-stained face, loading another plate-cleaving shell.
"No damage! Again! The engines are holding strong, tracks seem good, loading is fine. Heck, they're barely even scratching us! Although we are running low on shells..."
Teke wrenched the control stick, sending the tank in a barely controlled slide as another ballistae bolt whirred by it.
"How you holding up in the cockpit?"
"Just fine, sarge! There's a crapload of shrapnel and sand, though. I have to keep the fire slits cranked pretty tight."
Oi leaned back to the periscope, glancing at the scene of the battle. It was a complete stalemate. The heavier Earth Kingdom tanks couldn't hope to damage or outmanoeuvre the lighter Ember Group, while the more advanced Ember Group vehicles couldn't hope to damage the tremendously thick stone-and-metal plating on their opponents. The Earthbenders hadn't used any stone, yet; that at least was a spiritsend. They weren't pulling back, or making any move to retreat. A remarkably stupid decision.
"How many shells do we have left? Teke, check that the gyroscopes are still okay."
"Three each of blasting and plate armour cleaving. We've also got ten rounds of the canister shot, but since there's no infantry..."
The driver flicked a few levers, then gave an affirmative gesture.
"Gyros are running fine, especially given the amount of sand we've picked up. If they earthbend..."
Oi cut him off him with a gesture, then toggled the optigraph.
"Okay, looks like we're moving on to plan B. Drive them back. We're to throw down smoke, then pull back and let the artillery clear out the rest. Teke, let's go."
The tank made another swerving turn, and Oi pulled the two knobs marked 'smoke' on a nearby control panel. There was a sharp crack as the smoke bombs mounted to the outer hull were launched outwards by blasts of compressed steam, then a softer whoomph as they exploded, filling the air with grey-black smoke. By the time the shells and rockets began to rain down from the sky, Oi's tank was long gone.
Zuolin realized that he was grasping the arms of the command couch with enough force to cut his hands. He forced himself to let go, taking a long, juddering breath. After the continuous thunder of the sudden tank attack, the silence was eerie.
"Damage report!"
One of the earthbenders was making his way around the inside of the hull, closing the cracks in the granite plating with solid jabs of his arms. When Zuolin spoke, he looked up, and the general was shocked to see that his face was riddled with tiny cuts; hundreds of stone shards had pierced his face, leaving him bruised and bleeding despite the thick leather armour he wore.
"Sir, we're still running, and the tracks are holding up fine, but the outer armour's badly dented, and we've had major shrapnel from the inner armour. It'll hold if they come back, though."
One of the loaders leaned down into the body of the tank.
"Engineer, there's a bad crack in the rotation ring up here. If we don't get it fixed it'll fail the next time we –"
There was an infernal screech, and then the entire tank was rocked by a massive explosion. Then another. And another. Sound vanished as Zuolin was thrown this way and that, battered about the inside of the tank. Chunks of stone tore at his body, knocking the breath out of him. He couldn't understand it. The cacophony. The flames.
Oi rested draped his legs over the steam projector, grinning as he held the binoculars to his eyes. The whistle of artillery and the screech of rockets was constant, drowning out even the chugging of the steam engines of six separate tanks.
"Hey, Nut!"
Nutarniq, the commander from the next tank over, cocked his head, unwilling to remove his binocular-clad eyes from the explosive spectacle several kilometres off.
"What, Oi?"
"I just realized: those poor sods have never been through an artillery barrage before."
"Ouch. Say, can I borrow some of your water?"
Pulling the canteen from his belt, Oi opened it, and Nutarniq bent some of the water out of it and into his own.
"It's gonna be a little stale."
"As long as its not covered in sand. Spirits, a little salt water would do this place some good."
With a clatter of tracks, a third tank pulled up next to theirs. The top hatch clanked open, and a woman with short hair and a prominent blue tattoo on her forehead popped her head out.
"Guys, we've got to get back to base. Owl's locking things down now that the strike's over."
She was right; the artillery had tapered off.
"And are you seriously leaving your crews to stew in metal boxes while you guys catch the breeze? C'mon, guys."
Oi laughed, wrapping a companionly arm around the periscope protruding form the turret.
"Nah, they've got a plenty good view. Ain't that right, guys."
The muffled response from the hull speaking tube wasn't nearly as joking as Oi was.
"Someone just forfeited his rum ration tonight. You enjoy the breeze all you like."
Nutarniq huffed.
"Breeze, yeah right. Oi, you've got the heat. Sangmu, you've got the wind. And me? Dehydration. Feh."
The three tanks trundled across the wide dunes, heading towards a distant shining spire.
-~0X0~-
This is a minor update to a chapter which I'm well aware has far too much tanking and not nearly enough plot. The additions I've made should help, at least somewhat.