Interim- Narrative (BR 3-5

Just a narrative piece for between the battle reports.

My feet slid across the cold blue floor, slowly entering the orange squares projected from the large windows. The twin suns racing each other into the sky laid buildings as blocky black silhouettes. I felt my toes touching cloth, pushing my weight forward I moved cautiously over to the pile. Pulling the harsh denim over my worn body I looked towards the bed. Her eyes, blue as the oceans that raced under us on entry, and deep as the trenches that ran under them were framed by her long brown hair. I straightened, aware of my posture, and finally zipped the jeans up. I continued my motions and with an echoing “Click” my holster came together. As the cold familiar weight shifted in my hand an equally familiar sound rose.

“You never said you were an officer.” Her voice was it’s usual monotone.

I looked from the electric blue ammunition readout back to her, but couldn’t meet her eyes. I offered a surrender of a half smile and pulled my shirt over myself, hiding the campaign tattoos and scars. My toes reached the end of the cap and slid into the worn imprints perfectly formed to them from the recent months. The straps locking in place, I rose and walked towards the door. My arms finding their way through the jackets webbing, and pouches finally resting in the sleeves as they had done hundreds of times before. I reached the door and shifted my weight to my front foot, leaning my shoulder into the door as I pushed on the handle. A sword blade of orange light cracked in, I followed it with my eyes until it reached her face. Drawing a band across her broad European cheeks. She wore a emotionless half smile as her eyes broke from mine.

“Remember the E after the name” She said to no one.

I drew my head back and pushed through the door.

“HUSTLE BONES COMING OUT MY MOUTH”

The music echoed through the hangar, drowning out any sign of the warning klaxon whirring. The only sign of an entering craft was the bright red alarm spinning on an axis, casting blood red spotlights onto the crew and occupants inside. An elbow hit me just below my armpit.

“Oi we aint even liven to em’ just pay know?” Dingo’s thick and slightly slurred accent met my ear. Somehow keeping an annoying tone through the incredibly loud music.

I followed his nodding head towards the corner of the hangar. A group of partially armored individuals sat around a plastic garden table, the cheap plastic of their chair legs bowing under their weight. A half played card game lay between them. My eyes met one of the figures, I could feel them across the room. Her mud brown eyes had no proper definition, but were permanently arched into a glare. Her lips stained purple and full of piercings moved quickly in a foreign tongue. One hand on a communication device, the other resting on the massive hyena next to her. It’s tongue draped out, metal studs ringing its snout. A humorless pink collar almost lost in its dirty and matted fur. I snapped my look away as multiple crew members began clearing the hangar entrance, pushing carts of equipment and fuel out of the way. A small buggies headlights lit up as it was driven out of the way.

With a groan of unlubricated gears, and a rush of air that sent the card game to it’s final doom the hangar bay doors opened. A large platform sliding in from the airlock held the arriving contents out like a plate of food fit for a king.

“Oi, boy there here mate” Dingos voice once again somehow penetrating not only my ear drums but the hiss of hydraulics.

My eyes caught movement, the group in the corner were all standing now, even the Hyena. Glancing back, the platform halted with a grating whir and an enormous clap of hydraulics. A jet black semi orbital craft sat on 4 spindly legs. It’s blocky body marred with craters and micro impacts, yet somehow impossibly clean. A quad barreled turret sat at it’s aft, with belts of ammunition dangling from it. I began to wonder what craft had navigated the dangerous asteroid field to deliver this ship when my eyes noticed it’s hull.

“WARDADDY” Sat emblazoned upon it’s side, the words gripped in the talons of an enormous eagle.

“Oi!...” Dingos hands covered his eyes as he turned away. A small smile met my lips.

The rear hatch slid open, and a smaller ramp extended down slowly to meet our hangers deck. The group had walked closer now, standing at the side of the ramp. Movement could be seen inside the red lit interior of the craft. A man appeared carrying the end of a large box, another crew member gripping the end. They hurried down the ramp towards a loading zone. Two more boxes with accompanying crew followed. Their tight red flight suits carried a patch on one shoulder with a glaring skull and cross bones. With a scuttling movement a large drone remote appeared; leather pouches and carrying equipment shifting as it waddled down the ramp. A large radar dish attached just at the rear. Another combat version followed it, slower and more methodical, it’s enormous weapons were capped for safety and it’s ammunition belts clacked steadily against the hull casing. “Shits expensive mate, who aint he” I looked over. Blackie had silently replaced Dingo at my side, his arm still in a blood stained cast. His eyes locked on the craft.

“Won’ dey got for us net know?” I looked back at the craft, a new sound emanating from inside.

A large figure appeared in the access hatch, back lit from the red light. I recognized the outline of armor panels and a large coat.

With a stride rivaling that of a king, a large man in powered armor stepped down the ramp. The servo motors whining as they propelled the enormous suit of armor forward. Black and Orange mixed together with personalized paintings on his armor, a large trenchcoat of leather around his shoulders flowing behind him, unlatched at the front. His helmet removed, a chin as sharp as a blade rose into a broad Aryan face, short mop of hair on the very top, sides shaved bare. A large silver suitcase in one hand. He couldn’t have been older than 30, but anyone with money can blur those lines.

“Helllllloooooo boyyys!” A distinct accent echoed across the hangar bay. The figure stepped off the ramp halfway down, and with a loud thud and whining of motors landed in front of the group waiting there.

“Ooh, and ladies” With a sweeping movement he bowed slightly to the group.

We kept our position as we watched him begin conversing in a lowered voice with the group. Eventually trading the suitcase over to the woman. She immediately passed it to another member who scampered back towards the entrance door. Personnel continued to clear the inside of the ship out and spread it across the hangar bay. Turning, the figure faced our direction, now filled with other members of the crew. He began slowly walking towards us, arms raising from hip to chest, hip to chest like a toy soldier. With a haltered snap to attention, then transition to rest, he faced us.

“Howdy, I’m your new boss.” His Texan accent rang with familiarity in my ears. His eyes scanning the scum of the earth in front of him.

“Don’t worry it's temporary, and thank baby Jesus for that” His eyes locking on our Wardriver, clutching her Burkha tightly to her face.

A man spit on the ground in the back of the group.

“Oi n what u need us fer mate, you redy got a crew to get your ass off mate” I recognized Dingo’s voice, stuttering as usual.

The large man turned and walked to one side of our “formation”. A smile forming on his lips.

“We’re heading to Aconticemento, target worth ten times what I just paid for you, and your awhoooole’ ship. What made you so expensive is your deniability, halfa you look like goddarn terrorists to begin with”.

Aconticemento, the active Warzone? My mind seemed to stretch to the front of my skull.

“Oi…” Dingo sighed heavily from the rear of the formation.