Seem to be in a fanfic frame of mind today. Almost like the story is telling itself.
From the personal journal of Leftenant Erik "Stryker" Masters.
The op went okay overall, I think. Ben and Izzy went after those Swiftwinds like a starving dog goes after fresh meat. Fine by me. Meant I got to keep the tanks all to myself. Only two of 'em anyway, not enough to share. Alan was right about the pirates' maintenance procedures and policies. One of the tanks never even tried to fire his main gun. Just kept popping missiles every time he thought he was in range. The other one wasn't moving right. Seemed to have a problem keeping up with his lancemates. Then I gave him a bigger problem. Me. A Wolfhound may not be the baddest walker on the battlefield. But with a large laser and three medium pulsers to back it up, it is a long sight better than a crawler. Why'd anyone want to ride in one of those tin cans is beyond me anyway. Some people, eh?
So Stryker Lance was all here, engaging the enemy with derring do and having a grand time of it. Then one of the tanks found a couple of Inferno missiles he had forgotten about. Ben began screaming bloody murder over the comm. I pivoted, and saw his Raven was awash in flames. That took all the fun out of it for me. No cockpit breach, thank goodness, but not for lack of trying on the Bad People's part. Not really enough atmosphere on this planetoid to be able to go outside without wearing some sort of suit. And the primary puts off enough UV rads you can sometimes feel it prickling your skin when you walk by a window which isn't tuned properly.
Nobody gets into me for a lancemate. Not anymore. Not ever again. And I felt the familiar tide of cold anger rise up from the Valley of Shadows to sweep me along like a boat in a hurricane. This is the part of me I am just a little bit afraid of. The part that likes what's going to happen next. The part that gets a little sad and is upset when there are no more enemies to left to shoot. This is the me I want to be all the time yet every time it is over I never want to be again. Here we go. I became the darkest shadow in the Valley. God help them. Because I cannot.
The missile firer went first. Caught him in the right track and spun him around. My next shot with all three pulsers hit near the main fuel tank. The armour breached and all those megajoules of energy instantly flared the remaining diesel into a white hot fireball. The target had CASE, so most of the blast vented away from the crew compartment. But still, who enjoys being inside a steel box which has just been kicked in by a giant? One of the Swiftwinds circled behind me and opened up with a machine gun. Trying to cover his mates. So I pivoted and shot him with the large while keeping the hatches on my first target covered with the pulsers. The large took the top of the Swiftwind's crew compartment off and fried everything inside. Target down.
The hatches on my first target opened and the pulsers seemed to fire all by themselves. They died a whole lot faster and cleaner than what they had tried to give Ben. Izzy and Ben were moving up fast to rejoin and the comm was abuzz with something that sounded like, "Ell Tee! Nooo!". But who listens at a time like this? Still enemies to kill and if I didn't hurry, Ben and Izzy were going to take my share. Greedy, that's what they are. One Swiftwind and one tank left. Blew the tires off the scout with the pulsers and cored the engine compartment on the tank with the large. Nice shot, too. Moving away at speed with a rapidly increasing range and a large deflection angle. Not everyone could make a shot like that. I can. Anytime I want to. Sometimes it seems so easy.
Used the pulsers to strip everything off the hulls of both vehicles. Boxes. Antennas. Water cans. Survival gear. Probably spalled some of the armour off the inside, too. No one in either wreck seemed to be in a big hurry to dismount. Which is kinda odd because I know it had to be blistering hot inside. It was hot inside the Wolfhound as well. The large and the pulsers draw a lot of current off the fusion pile. The coolant vest kicked in and sent a shiver down my neck. Well, this is awkward. The Bad People had stopped shooting, but hadn't tried to give up yet. So I turned on the PA speaker and keyed the mic.
"Attention, scum. This is the Black Legion. Open the hatches and come out one at a time. Do it slowly or join your buddies. Pick one, and I don't care which one, either. Those Inferno rounds your dearly departed comrades used have really ****ed me off today. Let's go. I don't have all day to waste."
The shadows are my armour and my friend. Because they whispered into the back of my mind, I saw the belly hatch open on the tank and just knew something that long and bulky had to be a shoulder fired something or other. Stupid. Especially since if he timed it better, we would have been distracted by his buddies waving at us from the top of the vehicles while we did a quick head count. There were five of them all together. Before I opened up with the pulsers again. The hero and the last two out. The pulsers just about parted the hair of the first two.
"Stryker, this is is Lead. Form up on me and prep to romeo tango bravo. Weapons are hold status. Sitrep, over."
"Lead, Two. That Inferno burned through some controls. Left leg is lagging a little every now and then. Request we keep road march speed under four zero kay pee aitch."
"Any other problems, Two?"
"Negative, Lead. I should be able to move if I have to, I just don't want to lock up out here. The wrenches would never let me live it down."
"Lead, Three. Three is redcon one. Confirm weapons hold. I'll take point if you'll ride drag and cover Two."
"Roger Three. Move, Stryker."
"Lead, This is Two. What about them? Over."
"What about them, Two? You wanna give 'em a ride back to their place or what?"
"It's just...I mean. Aren't we gonna do anything for them?"
"Two, this is Lead. I did do something for them. I gave them their lives back. What they do with them from here on out is their business. Not mine. The Old Man pays me to shoot at the Bad People, not run some sort of halfway house. Lead, out."
It was really quiet all the way back to base. Other than routine comms, I left Izzy and Ben to their thoughts and hoped they would return the courtesy. Fortunately, they did. So now Stryker Lance has "seen the elephant". And maybe something else they shouldn't have.