Tuesday, August 26, 2008

An Interlude 2

Anatol Medalev was sweating. He muttered to himself about the blaring sun overhead and cursed the Badlands heat. He looked at the man next to him as they rode across the Western Desert and considered asking him why he was smiling. What was his name? Updike? Upton? He gave the man a surreptitious glare, half-detesting his resilience in this heat.

Up yours.

They stopped.

"Why have we stopped?" Medalev spoke calmly into the comm.

"Settlement up ahead," came the reply.

"Alright," Medalev slowly dismounted and with Upton found some boulders to climb onto. He took out some binoculars and watched.

"Looks like another homestead, complete with work gear and solar power," Upton nodded, passing the binoculars back to Medalev.

"How are we for fuel?"

"Low. Do we hit it?" Upton nodded his head at the homestead that was some two kilometers away.

"Yes. We'll need to build up our fuel before we cross the mountains," Medalev shrugged.

"We're hitting it," he spoke calmly into the comm as he hopped off the boulder. Upton followed.

The two men climbed back onto the HPC-64 hover-carrier.

"Sir, something coming in on the secure frequency," Medalev's driver reported.

"Bring it up." Medalev punched his password into a keypad and looked down at the display. With a frown, he closed his console and keyed the comm to the group channel.

"New orders," he spoke gravely, "we have to make it through these mountains with all due haste. We hit this homestead, fuel up, and move."

With that, Major Anatol Medalev of the Colonial Expeditionary Force waved his forces forward. His own HPC kicked up dust with the rest of the group. He could hear the first shots from the lead hovertank before he closed the hatch.

Blasted sun. I hate this place.


Hermes 72 - Heavy Gear RPG - Most artwork Copyright 2002 Dream Pod 9, Inc.