we wouldn’t have got this far. I am not willing to give up on him.”
The Sergeant stopped at a vehicle they had reached and tapped the hull.
“Here’s my girl.”
It was a medium weight, six-wheeled armoured car with small turret and light cannon.
“After we lost our armour in Brest, the survivors were reformed as a reconnaissance and infantry support battalion. These were the only vehicles that could be spared to replace it.”
“That’s a bit of a step down.”
“Hey, we’re still alive, that counts for a lot.”
The Captain wished he could take the words back, but it was too late.
“True, I am sorry. I didn’t mean to...”
“Enough of your apologies, Captain. We have a job to do, climb aboard.”
She hauled open the rear door allowing the troops to clamber in. The vehicle had seating for six as well as its three crew. Jones climbed through into the commander’s chair next to Dubois’ driving position.
“Where are your crew, Sergeant?”
“Nowhere you need to worry about, Captain, so where are we heading?”
Jones looked at the map displayed on a screen in front of him. Paris was quickly becoming familiar from such a view. His hand stretched across the map, tracing the steps Taylor had explained to him before he left.
“Here, the Major saw a small anomaly on surveillance photos, and that’s the area.”
“That’s about half an hour’s drive from here, if we are quick.”
Before the Captain could respond, Dubois planted her foot to the floor and the vehicle rushed forwards. The crew watched as they stormed out of the base without opposition. Nobody questioned troops that were heading anywhere but east. It was not long before they were free of the war-torn centre and driving among peaceful and intact neighbourhoods. Jones had begun to forget anything but the devastated rubble of the west.
“You got ammo aboard?”
“Of course, Captain.”
He turned back to Monty. “Get on that gun.”
“Got it, boss.”
The man weaved his way through the cramped seating to the gun position.
“We expecting trouble?” he asked.
“Always,” replied Jones.
The Captain turned to Dubois. She rode towards danger with no fear or regard for her own life at all.
“Will this armour hold up to their weapons?” he asked.
“I haven’t found out personally. I’ve heard they can take a few hits from the Mechs’ guns but nothing from their heavier weapons.”
“It’s an improvement over soft skin.”
They heard a heavy clunk as Monty loaded the turret-mounted cannon.
“Think you can handle that?” shouted Jones.
“Looks pretty simple, Captain!”
* * *
“Fuck!” Taylor screamed through clenched teeth as Silva reset his leg.
He spat out the block he’d been biting down on and took a deep breath.
“We should never have come out alone.”
“We didn’t, Sir,” replied Silva.
“Should have brought the whole battalion out for this.”
Silva helped lift the Major’s foot and rested it on a stool as he winced in pain. The Sergeant picked up two metal poles which he had collected from the store and placed them either side of the leg.
“It’s gonna hurt like hell to walk, but at least you’ll be on your feet.”
“Right now, anything is an improvement.”
Silva picked up a packet of duct tape and ripped it open. He quickly wrapped the silver tape around with some pressure along the length of most of the leg.
“That should do it.”
Taylor lowered his leg and winced with pain as it dropped to the ground. He pulled himself up. His wounded left leg was at least now useable. The splint had given the strength for him to walk. He hobbled a few steps and was glad to be back on his own two feet. Mitch stopped and froze at a sound from outside. Silva reached for his gun, but Taylor put his hand up to call for silence.
The two marines stared intently at the glass front of the shop, trying to identify the noise. Seconds later they heard footsteps that were too heavy to be human.
The Sergeant stopped at a vehicle they had reached and tapped the hull.
“Here’s my girl.”
It was a medium weight, six-wheeled armoured car with small turret and light cannon.
“After we lost our armour in Brest, the survivors were reformed as a reconnaissance and infantry support battalion. These were the only vehicles that could be spared to replace it.”
“That’s a bit of a step down.”
“Hey, we’re still alive, that counts for a lot.”
The Captain wished he could take the words back, but it was too late.
“True, I am sorry. I didn’t mean to...”
“Enough of your apologies, Captain. We have a job to do, climb aboard.”
She hauled open the rear door allowing the troops to clamber in. The vehicle had seating for six as well as its three crew. Jones climbed through into the commander’s chair next to Dubois’ driving position.
“Where are your crew, Sergeant?”
“Nowhere you need to worry about, Captain, so where are we heading?”
Jones looked at the map displayed on a screen in front of him. Paris was quickly becoming familiar from such a view. His hand stretched across the map, tracing the steps Taylor had explained to him before he left.
“Here, the Major saw a small anomaly on surveillance photos, and that’s the area.”
“That’s about half an hour’s drive from here, if we are quick.”
Before the Captain could respond, Dubois planted her foot to the floor and the vehicle rushed forwards. The crew watched as they stormed out of the base without opposition. Nobody questioned troops that were heading anywhere but east. It was not long before they were free of the war-torn centre and driving among peaceful and intact neighbourhoods. Jones had begun to forget anything but the devastated rubble of the west.
“You got ammo aboard?”
“Of course, Captain.”
He turned back to Monty. “Get on that gun.”
“Got it, boss.”
The man weaved his way through the cramped seating to the gun position.
“We expecting trouble?” he asked.
“Always,” replied Jones.
The Captain turned to Dubois. She rode towards danger with no fear or regard for her own life at all.
“Will this armour hold up to their weapons?” he asked.
“I haven’t found out personally. I’ve heard they can take a few hits from the Mechs’ guns but nothing from their heavier weapons.”
“It’s an improvement over soft skin.”
They heard a heavy clunk as Monty loaded the turret-mounted cannon.
“Think you can handle that?” shouted Jones.
“Looks pretty simple, Captain!”
* * *
“Fuck!” Taylor screamed through clenched teeth as Silva reset his leg.
He spat out the block he’d been biting down on and took a deep breath.
“We should never have come out alone.”
“We didn’t, Sir,” replied Silva.
“Should have brought the whole battalion out for this.”
Silva helped lift the Major’s foot and rested it on a stool as he winced in pain. The Sergeant picked up two metal poles which he had collected from the store and placed them either side of the leg.
“It’s gonna hurt like hell to walk, but at least you’ll be on your feet.”
“Right now, anything is an improvement.”
Silva picked up a packet of duct tape and ripped it open. He quickly wrapped the silver tape around with some pressure along the length of most of the leg.
“That should do it.”
Taylor lowered his leg and winced with pain as it dropped to the ground. He pulled himself up. His wounded left leg was at least now useable. The splint had given the strength for him to walk. He hobbled a few steps and was glad to be back on his own two feet. Mitch stopped and froze at a sound from outside. Silva reached for his gun, but Taylor put his hand up to call for silence.
The two marines stared intently at the glass front of the shop, trying to identify the noise. Seconds later they heard footsteps that were too heavy to be human.
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