Durradon wrote:Coldhand Mine, Arasland, GUSergeant Samson CarwinThe silence was deafening. The arctic winds of the Green Union moaned as Samson rubbed his hands together to keep warm, looking at Eule, the Aras teenager who seemed to sit quietly unaffected by the icy air. Samson's soldiers walked into the empty garage and looked between their sergeant and the girl.
"Plan, boss? Imps are going in hard and Strekker is going to try and chop the head off the snake. What are we doing?"
Samson looked at them and then turned back to the Aras and spoke in a rudimentary form of Aras German.
"I know it's been rough for you... and I know you might not want to talk..." He took his gun from his lap and put it on the floor, leaning forward slightly and shivering. "What happened back at your peoples' camp, the people who are no longer with us and have returned to the Earth... who were they?"
The two soldiers watching their commander speak German were confused, so proceeded to turn, walk to the door and chat quietly to themselves while they looked out of the window of the door.
Eule, Coldhand Mine, Arasland:The Aras felt strange in her new clothes. Used to furs and thick cotton, the denim jeans and plastic workvest of a miner may as well have been apparel from a different planet. The last hour or so had been a blur. After working up the nerve to disrobe in Samson’s room and use the strange man’s shower things had moved very fast, her being jostled from place to place in a hurry. At some point her old clothes had completely disappeared, along with anything she had left in them. The good news was that the teenage girl was starting to feel aware enough to care about where her phone was.
Eule sat on some sort of heavy industrial equipment, her legs extended and hands dug deep into their pockets, thinking her own thoughts. That was when Samson, a guy the Aras girl was getting really tired of, appeared in front of her.
Eule blinked a couple times at the question. “Don’t play dumb,” she simply scoffed, “if you already know we’re the Hasenkriegers then don't ask.”
She folded her arms, rolling her eyes and puffing at a single strand of hair which had started getting rebellious since her new pixie cut. "We protect the people from murderers like you. We stop the war from coming to our villages. We . . . we . . . oh, forget it."
The girl grit her teeth and looked away, but the tears were already flowing. "We promised to help protect them.
I promised that. And when I promised I would go find food I instead brought back the Arcadians. That's what they wanted, wasn't it? The pilots only wanted the Arcadians. If I hadn't brought them to the camp then maybe . . . maybe . . ."
The Grande Republic 0f Arcadia wrote:Coldhand Mine, Arasland, CGUStg. Rainer Husch, 809th Irregular Forces BattalionHe spoke "Fine, now untie me." As the Durridonians united him Husch and his team rearmed ready for combat. The winds echoed though out the old mine and snow mixed with dirt kicked up. They loaded thier guns, half of the team would engage the Durridonians, while the other would watch for C-Sec and keep the escape path clear so they can move. As they ran into positions the crunch of Husch's feet as he stepped grew ever louder and Husch slipped the magazine into the rifle, where he heard the click of the magazine getting locked in. They hid on the rocks waiting for the time to act. As C-Sec moved into the section of the mine that they looked over they began to open fire.
I have the high ground Anakin!
The Grande Republic 0f Arcadia wrote:Coldhand Mine, Arasland, Green UnionStg. Rainer Husch, 809th Irregular Forces BattalionThe wind felt as if it was biting his face, and his fingers were nearly going numb. He moved his finger off the trigger and began to move his fingers to ensure there was still blood flow. When the Durridonians lead the C-Sec soldiers to the target area, Husch put his finger back on the trigger and pulled, opening fire on the soldiers, sparing the Durridonians. He watched as the bodies dropped, and they stayed behind cover as fire was returned. Husch and his team stuck with quick bursts to maintain accuracy. The head from the guns began to warm their hands, but not hot enough to make a difference. He hoped they would be going home after this.
Pvt. Henry Wolz, C-Sec Land Security, Coldhand Mine, Arasland“Get up there, crew,” their corporal barked, “find a good spot for the MG.”
Wolz shivered as he and the assistant gunner hauled the GPMG across the tarmac, having just dismounted into the swirling snow of the eternal Arctic nighttime. Illuminated only by the spotlights they quickly moved to a stack of shipping containers, waving away the protests of a mine employee who got in their way. Their assigned duty was to take up an overlook position, and the only way the rest of the team could feel confident in playing nice was if there was a .30 Cal machine gun backing them up.
And back up their coworkers was what the small three-man machine gun team intended to do. Once hauling eachother and their weapon up on top of one of the few single high containers the soldiers began consolidating their position. From their vantage point they observed the wrapup of their men engaging with the mine guards, seeing their success in convincing them to take Captain Smith to their objective. Relieved, the C-Sec gunner started fumbling with the ammunition boxes, trying to get a grip with his oversized gloves even as the flitting snow and low light complicated things.
Henry was a Calen native and had thought he was acclimatized to the harsh Green Union winters, but compared to what he was feeling now Calendôr seemed positively tropical. Even though Henry was in a position shielded from the wind the chill seemed to have gotten inside him, turning the very marrow of his bones to ice. The soldier almost wished he hadn’t taken such a demanding job.
The key word there was
almost, because no matter how rough the work as a security trooper became there was no way he would stop doing it. Even as a young UofH student Henry and his colleagues could see that the old parliament was rotten to the core, its abolition long overdue. And even if the current Congress was a little rough around the edges it was still obvious that the system which put it in place was a far better foundation for a new country. A decade or a century down the road a deregulated, Capitalist single republic under this model would still be a beacon of democracy, whereas a return to the old Union guaranteed only partisan politics and threats of national successions. The young man loved his homeland and the newfound freedom they were all still learning to appreciate, despite knowing that it would fall to a few brave men to secure its future. But if he had to be one of those men he would, if only so his wife and kids could live free.
They finished readying the GPMG mere minutes before they received word that their air cover had departed. With the jets which had been circling this mine gone it fell to Henry and his team to keep their coworkers safe. Some time later someone waved that a C-130 electronic warfare aircraft was overhead, and due to a lack of information and to be on the safe side it would be jamming all wireless signals in the mine including their own radio communications. This was the first tip Henry got that something serious was going down.
But there was still a job to do, and even though there were plenty of corporate security around they could never be too careful. Henry, his corporal, and their assistant gunner huddled together on the cold metal of the shipping container, peering off through the searchlights at the perimeter of the landing area. Down below their platoon didn't seem to be feeling much more comfortable, doing their best to maintain a perimeter while the local PMCs wandered around and made themselves a general annoyance.
That was when it went to shit.
All of a sudden there were the distinct sound of shots on the far side of the landing pad. Henry perked up as some of the troops on the ground staggered, others instinctively giving a burst of reactive fire and dove for the snow. But through the thick snowstorm it was impossible to see what was going on beyond the lights (all of which illuminated the C-Sec troops, for some reason). The corporal got up, peering through the malestrom for what seemed like far too long as the snaps continued from both sides, until he seemed to catch something.
"Over there, Private!" he yelled, gesturing wildly to a corner of the compound, "hose e'm down by that wall!"