scattered around the craft to distract the missiles. The fire from the fighters was rapid and accurate. With two brief explosions the threat was neutralised and the Lander was able to continue its journey in safety.
Marcus climbed up the rubble to Spartan’s side to get a better view. The difference in mass between them was considerable with Spartan looking far more bulky in the armour. Checking the open plane was secure, Marcus turned back to Spartan.
“How is Teresa doing?”
“Teresa, yeah, well it was going well. But since the landing on Titan I’ve only seen her a few times,” he said in a low tone.
“What’s the story with her? Last time I spoke to her she told me where to go when I asked her about home!” he laughed.
“Yeah, sounds like her. She doesn’t talk about her home much. I know she hasn’t been back for a few years. She’s travelled the System for work, I think this was her last choice.”
“Last choice, I’ve heard plenty of people saying the same, though some here actually volunteered. Can you believe that?”
Spartan was lost in his thoughts, thinking back to his time on Prometheus where he had worked as an illegal pit fighter on the many stations in the System. His debts had since been wiped due to him joining the Marine Corps, but that didn’t remove the memories of the many fights he’d had. He liked the fighting but not the people involved. It was laced with gambling, prostitution and drugs. He had managed to avoid the worst of it but there were memories he would like to forget, things he never wanted to remember.
“Never believe what?” Spartan asked, completely forgetting or mishearing most of what Marcus had said.
“Forget it. I think we’ve got more important things to think about. Look!” he pointed out to the horizon.
In the far distance a dust storm was gathering and making its way to New Carlos. Spartan looked around his position, checking on those nearby and the combat units who were starting to relax.
“To your posts, incoming!” he shouted.
The voice commands were instantly transmitted to each of the CES units and speakers fixed to the exterior of the suit sent the audio to everybody within a hundred metres. Nearby he could see Lieutenant Daniels on top of the outer wall checking the approaching storm.
“Sir, any intel on this?”
“Lieutenant Weathers just reported that two Thunderbolts have been brought down. It looked like someone triggered a series of seismic charges along the front line between us and the landing zones for the Army.”
“I don’t understand. Why would they do that?”
“No idea, Sergeant, if you ask me I reckon they’re trying to create cover for an attack on the Army or us, maybe even both. One thing I do know, that dust storm is coming our way and when it hits it will hit fast. Satellite feeds show it will be here in the next three minutes. I suggest we all get undercover, fast!”
“What about the perimeter lines? If we all take shelter we’ll leave the line open.”
“Shit, you’re right. Get the civilians and militia into cover. All armoured units on the front line. Try and keep your heads down and ride the storm. Let’s just hope the Zealots don’t get through our lines!” The approaching storm started to drown out his voice.
Spartan shouted at the marines, commandos and civilians, doing his best to clear them from the open ground and trenches into areas with cover from the elements. Small groups of marines in their PDS suits ran to the outer line and replaced some of the militia units who had been taking their turn there. A few CES units fired up their power units and stomped forward into their pre-prepared pits for possible battle. In the distance the other companies of marines and civilians did the same. Marcus, Davis and Humphreys, all men from his own company, lay down along the rear of the rubble wall and watched the storm through the scopes on their L48 rifles. Spartan moved up ten metres behind them
Marcus climbed up the rubble to Spartan’s side to get a better view. The difference in mass between them was considerable with Spartan looking far more bulky in the armour. Checking the open plane was secure, Marcus turned back to Spartan.
“How is Teresa doing?”
“Teresa, yeah, well it was going well. But since the landing on Titan I’ve only seen her a few times,” he said in a low tone.
“What’s the story with her? Last time I spoke to her she told me where to go when I asked her about home!” he laughed.
“Yeah, sounds like her. She doesn’t talk about her home much. I know she hasn’t been back for a few years. She’s travelled the System for work, I think this was her last choice.”
“Last choice, I’ve heard plenty of people saying the same, though some here actually volunteered. Can you believe that?”
Spartan was lost in his thoughts, thinking back to his time on Prometheus where he had worked as an illegal pit fighter on the many stations in the System. His debts had since been wiped due to him joining the Marine Corps, but that didn’t remove the memories of the many fights he’d had. He liked the fighting but not the people involved. It was laced with gambling, prostitution and drugs. He had managed to avoid the worst of it but there were memories he would like to forget, things he never wanted to remember.
“Never believe what?” Spartan asked, completely forgetting or mishearing most of what Marcus had said.
“Forget it. I think we’ve got more important things to think about. Look!” he pointed out to the horizon.
In the far distance a dust storm was gathering and making its way to New Carlos. Spartan looked around his position, checking on those nearby and the combat units who were starting to relax.
“To your posts, incoming!” he shouted.
The voice commands were instantly transmitted to each of the CES units and speakers fixed to the exterior of the suit sent the audio to everybody within a hundred metres. Nearby he could see Lieutenant Daniels on top of the outer wall checking the approaching storm.
“Sir, any intel on this?”
“Lieutenant Weathers just reported that two Thunderbolts have been brought down. It looked like someone triggered a series of seismic charges along the front line between us and the landing zones for the Army.”
“I don’t understand. Why would they do that?”
“No idea, Sergeant, if you ask me I reckon they’re trying to create cover for an attack on the Army or us, maybe even both. One thing I do know, that dust storm is coming our way and when it hits it will hit fast. Satellite feeds show it will be here in the next three minutes. I suggest we all get undercover, fast!”
“What about the perimeter lines? If we all take shelter we’ll leave the line open.”
“Shit, you’re right. Get the civilians and militia into cover. All armoured units on the front line. Try and keep your heads down and ride the storm. Let’s just hope the Zealots don’t get through our lines!” The approaching storm started to drown out his voice.
Spartan shouted at the marines, commandos and civilians, doing his best to clear them from the open ground and trenches into areas with cover from the elements. Small groups of marines in their PDS suits ran to the outer line and replaced some of the militia units who had been taking their turn there. A few CES units fired up their power units and stomped forward into their pre-prepared pits for possible battle. In the distance the other companies of marines and civilians did the same. Marcus, Davis and Humphreys, all men from his own company, lay down along the rear of the rubble wall and watched the storm through the scopes on their L48 rifles. Spartan moved up ten metres behind them
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