Adept IX Shin Morgan had never liked space - there was a sheer sense of... wrongness the ComGurd had never got used to.
Tucking his Velcro lined toes into the patches of carpet as he moved fitfully along the bulkhead, the big man weaved among the men and women crowding into the narrow compartment.
A pat on the shoulder here, a muttered comment and a grin, Morgan tried his best to offer some sense of comfort to all of his subordinates.
Finally he managed to bull his way to the front of the compartment - and see outside.
Stars stood out like white-blue pin holes against the black vastness. But it was the other, artificial, lights that made a sick feeling rise in Morgan’s stomach.
Pulses and flashes as ships and men died in the coldness of space.
The whole ship junked around suddenly and the view shifted.
Now they could see the twisted hulk of what must have once been a starship. Torn and rended hull, a swathe of debris floating in its wake.
As the ship turned, Morgan could see the bold Steiner first painted defiantly on the hulk’s side.
“You were on Tukayyid, weren’t you sir? When the Heretics came, I mean?”
Morgan turned to the speaker - a shorter man with a shock of blonde hair and very blue eyes.
Shin Morgan had first tasted war as a 10-year-old when the now dead Clan Smoke Jaguar had invaded Nykvarm, a Combine world his ComStar technician father had been assigned to. Four year’s later - tired of his father’s collaboration with the Jaguars, he’d walked into the wilderness and joined the local resistance.
He’d been fighting almost constantly since then and realised the blonde Acolyte in front of him was probably a decade older than he’d been when he’d first taken up arms.
But why did they all look so damn... young.
“That’s right, I was with Invader Galaxy when this all kicked off. But that was different - this time, we’re the ones on the offensive,” he told the young Acolyte with a smile he didn’t feel.
Outside, there was a sudden flare of light as a ship exploded.
“Our warships will clear this shortly,” he said.
Suddenly, there was the harsh buzz of the ship-wide alarm.
“All personnel, general quarters - report to your duty station. All personnel-“
Zipping his white jumpsuit up, Morgan smiled at the gathered troops.
“Time to get to business.”
Thank God for ComStar’s 4th Army. A week of sniping and moving, waiting for relief and then finally we got cornered by the Word’s forces.
Thankfully the 4th dropped pretty much right on our heads and pulled us out of the fire.
The FWL’s Juggernaut regiment is off to our left flank and the Word has actually been forced to pull back in the face of the reinforcements.
Our friendly Wolves are still sticking close to us - nothing like supplementing your force with a “star” - ie: an oversized platoon of Toads, plus a lance or Exiles in captured Mechs.
I mean, the Wolf mechjocks have bitched and moaned about the equipment, but i only had to offer to let them sit out and...
We’re tucked in behind the ComGuards around a place called Breckenridge and the scuttlebug is we’re going to be part of the next big push to take Breckenridge and then sweep down onto Starpad, the biggest spaceport.
- Felix Cavalli
INTERCEPT-XX091-TANGO
Grainy image shows the inside of a tent - green canvas walls form the backdrop but there is a host of high tech electronic equipment laid out on the table in the middle.
A small display beam up a hologram of a planet. The legend CHARA hangs over the planet and there’s a network of red lines and multicoloured icons spread across the globe.
Several people are clustered around - it’s a jungle of khaki, greens and browns.
In the middle a tall, red headed woman stand nodding as an aide briefs her.
She’s pretty but currently scowling as she listens and pages through a data pad.
She waves most of those gathered out, apart from the aide.
Two men enter. The first is tall and broad shouldered, with steel grey hair cut stubble short. He’s wearing a white and grey jumpsuit.
Beside him is a much shorter, stockier figure with a full beard. Both it and his short hair are black, shot through with grey.
He limps, favouring his right side and his rolled up fatigue sleeves expose the chrome replacement for his left arm.
Woman: “Oscar, Felix. Good to see you.”
The woman waves off the pairs’ salutes and enfolds the bearded man in a bear hug.
He grins and steps back, keeping his flesh and blood hand on her back.
“General Lee, I can’t tell you how glad me and the rest of my Cavaliere are to see you.”
The woman is beaming and gestures to her aide who is already approaching with a bottle of scotch and three glasses. He busies himself pouring and handing out glasses as the new pair look at the central display.
Cavalli: “Hell of a thing - not being able to call in orbital support. Would have helped us on your way in.”
They all accept glasses, toast and drink.
The redhead lights a cigarette and waves away the trickle of smoke.
“We’re working on it. Bastards have this system sewn up with drones. But don’t worry, we have a plan.”
The taller man downs his drink as he peers at the table display.
“Maybe tell Webb to hurry up and knock out the ground based array or we’re all going to face a slog, ja?”
Lee takes a deep drag and nods at Cavalli who is now refilling glasses, shooing the aide out of the way with his ghastly metal hand
“That’s why you gentlemen are here. Marcel needs help pushing in and taking the facility. He needs a distraction.”
Fades to static