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RP [Mission 0.1] Prom Date

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Saul

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[MISSION 0.1] "Prom Date"
Forward Operating Base Icebox, Longwatch
70 miles from Fort Bulwark
0647 hours, local time


One month after the Crusaders had engaged NMX forces on patrol and - nothing had changed. Not really. The planet was still cold, the sun still hovered on the horizon, and outside of the going of only just met Marines to be replaced by others not much had changed. Higher command had set the whole incident assigned, chalking it up to their proximity to known Mishu strong-points on other worlds.

A few more patrols had been put out and for about two weeks the Crusaders forgot what their beds looked like with nights spent out on patrol, catching sleep atop their tanks, and enjoying "delicious" pre-packed meals. They were Marines though, and so William knew his Marines would tough it out well enough. Even if some of them might have complained about the lack of accommodations when "roughing" it.

And now they'd made home at FOB Icebox for the last two days.

On a small plateau overlooking the surrounding valley landscape, FOB Icebox was a chokepoint that made more environmentally-minded Marines nervous with the rising slopes of the valley on their flanks and the rises and dips in the surrounding land in places that could provide cover. The Commissar put in charge of the post had been vocal enough with his complaints that higher command had seen fit to give him heavier support for his defense than the small number of K4s and Marine infantry he'd had. While Crusader Flotilment had been on the way to the FOB in a late evening ride two nights ago, the Marines already there had dug out further defensive positions to give the tanks cover behind the walls on an otherwise mostly flat position, while still allowing them to fire.

For Corporal Miller and the crew of the "Vehicular Manslaughter", a hatred of not only Marine brass back at Fort Bulwark, but also possibly of Chief Parry would have been entirely understandable. His crew and three others hadn't even been given a full night's rest before they'd been ordered on a two-day long patrol of the surrounding area "outside the wire". Miller and "Vehicular Manslaughter", Private Simonova and "Misha", Corporal Heidleberg and "Ground Hog", and Hamal Seven-One and "Long Horn" had all been outside the wire on the two-day patrol slated to come back this morning.

Chief Parry, Private Tyrosian and "Hazardous Materials", Corporal Battleaxe and "Crush 'N Grind!", Corporal Titenlieb and "The BONE", and a newer arrival to the unit in "Rough Rider" had all been holding guard for the past two days "inside the wire" in eight-hour shifts by two. Free time had was passed at the small chow hall, getting to know the other Marines stationed there, working out at the (uncomfortably) open-air "gym" the Marines had set up after a friendly-fire incident a week ago had taken out the actual gym. At the moment Chief Parry's crew and the crew of "Rough Rider" stood watch, each across the small FOB from one another, and able to just glimpse the other crew's tank between some of the buildings. The other two crews and their commanders had been scheduled as free for the morning to do as they pleased, even if they wanted to sleep in.

From atop his tank, sitting partly out of the cupola despite how much it might silhouette his frame, Chief Parry scanned the valley floor with binoculars in hand searching for the dust clouds or outline of four of his tanks under the eternal winter sun.
 
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Forward Operating Base Icebox, Longwatch
70 miles from Fort Bulwark
0647 hours, local time



The sounds of a lone tank racing engine and the usual trailing cloud of dust boiling behind it as it raced down the road? Trail? Marks in the ground? towards the FOB that was suppose to be out there. Coming over a rise, the tank became airborne as much as it weight allowed. Hitting the ground with a cloud of dust that was soon left behind for the rest of the other tanks following, to eat.

"Squeakies" yellow hair flashing in a golden collar below her helmet. To her this was a new world and glad to get away from Fort Bulwark and all the "Fobbits" and running endless drills with her tank crew of seasoned veterans of past encounters. She being relatively new which caused dissension between her and "Mikey", who was slotted as the next commander of the tank that "Squeakies" took charge of.

"Benji" was wedged into a spot and fast asleep, snoring softly as it didn't matter cause the noise of the tank hid it.

"Squeaks! We better call and find out where this base is. We're getting low on juice!" Charlie interrupting the ongoing feud between "Mikey" and "Squeakies"

"Next Depression, stop the tank and I'll find out where to go." Elizabeth replied as she pulled out her map case. "Wakey wakey everyone! We're in indian country!"

"Mikey" rolled her eyes as she reached back and gave Benji foot a hard jerk to wake him up. Getting a pat on the shoulder, she began to traverse the turret, looking for bandits to shoot.

Wrench began to slow the tank down to eliminate the cloud marker of the tank and crept foward into an old explosion crater deep enough to leave the turret exposed and clear to fire from it's spot. The engine idled in a low rumble to keep it warm. It was a bitch to start a cold engine.
 
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A few miles away from F.O.B Icebox, Longwatch

The Long Horn and her crew were heading back form the patrol, while they did keep in formation on the outside, the inside was less than alert. P1C Hamal was sitting in his commander's chair downing a bottle of something, but no one really bothered to ask, he was already telling some long winded story, and they didn't need another one. "...and that's when the engines went down. I had to jury-rig a way to fix it. Got my arm caught up in the mechanisms and it got torn clean off. 'Course it was the cybernetic one, but it still hurt..."

Alexander seemed to actually be listening to the story of the commander, either that or he just zoned out and nodded his head occasionally. Regardless, he had to stay awake because he was driving.

Fitz had only just recently fallen asleep, not being able to fire the canon for so long had made her restless at first and she was very snappy and grumpy, but then now she has just fallen asleep in boredom.

Gearbox was tinkering around with the loading mechanisms of the tank making 'fine adjustments' while listening to some music. He always came prepared, and after the first time riding in a tank with the Hermit, he know music would always be a requirement.
 
Corporal Battleaxe and his Warhammers were blasting music inside their tank as the hot plate heated water for them. They had already gotten their mugs and cocoa powder ready, now to just wait for the water to boil. Danny was sitting atop the tank's prow, drumming on the hull with her drumsticks while Johnny stood in the cupola to scan the horizon with his eyes.

"Dust cloud, 8 kilometres from my position. Challenging them now," he reported to the Chief. "Jay Jay, my binocs."

Pressing the binoculars his loader had passed to him, Johnny peered into the dust cloud. "Looks like one of our tanks. Others are probably hidden by the dust."

Man, all of these newbies don't know how to make a tank stand out. "Just in case, Jay Jay, slap a HEAP round up the spout. Danny, get inside. Sammy, track the target." The turret whirred as it slowly started moving to lead the oncoming tank. Inside, he heard the groans as Sammy took the kettle off and no one got their hot cocoa.

"Unidentified dust cloud, you are now under the guns of FOB Icebox. Transmit IFF and identify yourself with today's password," Johnny transmitted to the Long Horn.
 
Outer perimeter of Forward Operating Base Icebox, Longwatch
70 miles from Fort Bulwark
0647 hours, local time


"Otto, I don't give a shit, leave me alone." Mitchell repeated the -very well known and used- mantra through the crew's channel as he looked through one of the screens next to the command seat he was perched on. The vibration from the tank's engine had become something natural for both him and the crew, and the noise just a background triviality after all the time spent living inside of the armored beast that was the Maximus. Although the entire crew was exhausted and on edge from the patrol, which explained the even greater yammering from his gunner, they were also working on a remarkable synchronicity than the last time when they engaged the enemy.

Mitchell's eyes darted to his side, staring at the gunner, who casually drummed his fingers next to the gun controls for the massive 155mm main gun, while further down in something like the corporal could only describe as an incredible feat of magic, sat the massive ID-SOL loader, who was also 'spacing' out as one of his still intact hands examined his augmented arm. Further down and forward was the driver, too focused on keeping the tank moving to tell the gunner to shut up himself.

The tank shook as it went over a small rise in the terrain, following right behind the Ground Hog, when Mitchell rose from his seat, his torso popping out from the commander's hatch as he scanned the FOB's direction with a binocular in one hand, and the radio on the other, "Today's password is Bathroom Call." He replied on the frequency, stating the password from the day he had left on patrol, as the Vehicular Manslaughter approached the FOB.
 
Outer perimeter of Forward Operating Base Icebox, Longwatch
70 miles from Fort Bulwark
0648 hours, local time


Squeakies sighed with relief as Vehicular Manslaughter came into sight. Seeing the hatch pop open and her Patrol Leader pop up. She watched him take a look with his binoc, "Wrench, we over shot again! Go left till 7 o'clock and go straight."

'Mikey" rolled her eyes as she grimaced at the total inexperience of the new TC as the tank moved out from the crater.

Wrench gunned the engine of the tank and sped towards the FOB, once more kicking up a much smaller cloud dust as the tank climbed the rise of elevation.

"Benji' settled down and hung on as the tank began to move out of the crater and turned. He relaxed as the tank straightened out and picked up speed towards the base.

Squeakies put away her map case and held onto the big mounted machinegun and kept pointed up into the air.
 
Wespe walked into the cold, she did not have watch at the moment and she slept enough. She left her crew inthe chow-room, hoping Fastclaw won't murder anyone, though Wojtek was around so it should be okay. Rum will probably cooks something and all the marines in the room will suddenly become his best friends. That is how it usually went. Fastclaw got into fight, Wojtek brought it to an end and Rum made everyone buddies again with magic of burgers. Wespe did not feel like jovial fun. She was lonely.

Walking outside she made it to where Perry's tank was station. She had a thermos bottle and two metal cups, climbing up, she gave him a salute. "Heyo Sah," she greeted him, leaning against the turret. Wespe poured coffee with tip of whiskey pre-poured in, into two cups and set one next to Perry. "Anything happening sah? I wish they would get us out of this freezehole finally. A nice garrison watch on Nepleslia Prime would be nice."
 
Outer perimeter of Forward Operating Base Icebox, Longwatch
0754 hours, local time

Elizabeth leaned against the cowling as she help guide her driver to the path through the defensive works of the Icebox and through it. She was looking forward to the quiet of being away from her tank. She looked over the forsaken place with a slight smile in place as the tank rumbled into the FOB proper. Moving deeper to allow the other tanks access to the base.

Finding a place to park, She had her driver keep the engine running, as she turned to watch the rest of the patrol enter the base.
 
"Just cos you gotta take a piss doesn't mean you get to use potty language with me, boyo," Johnny replied to Ross Mitchell.

"Arm tennis balls, Jay Jay! Sammy, prepare to fire at the lead tank, 50% power on the rails! New target designated Hamburger Meat!"

Sanjay immediately removed the HEAP round and replaced it by stuffing the barrel full of neon green tennis balls. These had been modified by the crew to add a small magnetic core, allowing them to fire the tennis balls using the railgun setting.

"Loaded!" he reported. "Tracking target Hamburger Meat! On target!" Sammy added. "Fire at will!" Johnny shouted.

The tank's magnetic rails launched half a dozen tennis balls at the Ground Hog.

"Multiple hits!" Sammy reported as the tennis balls bounced off Squeaker's tank, rather loudly so that the occupants inside could hear the impacts.

"Good kill! Hamburger Meat neutralized! Traverse turret, new target identified as Potty Mouth, and fire at will!"

Jay Jay loaded another half dozen tennis balls into the barrel and Sammy fired again, this time at Vehicular Manslaughter. "There is no place in this Marine Corps for such foul bathroom language! Prepare to die in the most humiliating fashion for dishonoring our Corps!" Johnny transmitted to Ross.

Crush 'N Grind's main gun launched another half dozen tennis balls at Vehicular Manslaughter with gusto. Again, all six bounced loudly off the tank's hull.

"Multiple hits on target Potty Mouth!" Sammy reported. "Kill confirmed, gunner. Chalk those two up!" Johnny exclaimed ebulliently.
 
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The Long Horn had been following after Vehicular Manslaughter in formation as they moved along towards the FOB. After hearing the request for a password, Hamal decided it was time to rouse his crew so they at least looked somewhat presentable when they arrived. So he took his cane and poked Fitz till she was awake. He was about to do the same to Gearbox but suddenly the tank swerved and a simple poke turned into a jab that knocked his head against the walls of the tank, thankfully he was wearing his helmet.

"Alex what was that?" spoke Hamal as he tried to figure out what was going on.

"Several neon green objects were fired at Ground Hog and Vehicular Manslaughter., point of origin seems to be the FOB." Alex responded, sounding a bit worried and confused.

"What the hell old man? Why did you hit me?" Gearbox had managed to get his senses back after getting smacked against the wall of the tank.

"Good, you're paying attention. Load the canon with a PR shell." Hermit just ignored what Gearbox said, he didn't want to bother with it right now. "Target the aggressor at the FOB and fire."

Fitz got a wide grin on her face she was not sure what was going on but she got to fire the gun that's all that mattered to her. She took aim as Gearbox loaded the shell, none of them knew what they were, Hermit just kept them stored in the tank and said one day they would need them.

After a moment of Long Horn taking aim there was hum as the rail gun came on line and then something came flying out at a high angle, it looked like a canister of some kind. Once it reached the appropriate height the canister fell apart and Crush 'N Grind was rained on by hundreds of pieces of candy.
 
Outside of the FOB

At the sound of multiple hits rang off her hull, "Squeakies" dropped into her tank, pulling her hatch closed. Only to realize that it was under attack.

"Mikey" was grabbing the trigger and powering up the turrent to return fire as Benji, readied the next round to load as soon as "Mikey" was given clearance to return fire as "Squeakies" had her face to her scope, to spot the threat to kill it.

Her driver ravved the engine and shifted into gear to go into evasive maneuvers, once the 155mm gun fired. But one tank of their patrol shot into the air. Was the threat airborne? Racing the Tank into the FOB

Inside of the FOB

"Move move the tank! Evasive against Airborne threat!" 'Squeakies' yelled as she switched views on her scope to get an ariel view.

Ground Hog rumbled forwards into a sharp turn trying to avoid other tanks, building, but that wasn't possible as one corner tore the corner off an Office building, letting in the cold, till the hot exhaust shot into the open.

"Mikey" had her gun traversing back and forth to look for ground threats as Ground Hog tore through the FOB in a random zig-zag. "Benji" hanging on for dear life at the unpredictability of 'Wrench' maneuvers to avoid airborne fire at them.
 
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FOB Icebox

William was still watching his sector, keeping an ear out on the tactical channel as he listened to the exchange between the sentry and the returning patrol. Time had already started to slow down in this little home away from home and as easy as something like this guard duty was, it could be taxing in its own ways. He heard the sound of footsteps crunching the snow-frosted dirt around his tank's fighting position and barely turned to catch sight of who was coming in his peripherals. It wasn't one of the local grunts, he realized immediately because of the differences in uniform, and he recognized just who it was almost an instant later. Giving the junior tank commander a small nod of the head, William turned to looking back "downrange" as she climbed aboard his tank.

"You should know better than to salute out here." The Chief chuckled, taking the cup set beside him as Wespe made herself comfortable leaning against his tank.

And then the world went to hell.

The cannon's fire was muted. More than just rail firing would silence it. This was like it was firing something of a different mass from the typical shells. And suddenly he realized just who was firing. William set down the mixed coffee Wespe had provided, with one gloved hand clamping down on the edge of his cupola like the Marine commander was trying to channel what would have been physical rage out of his body and into the tank. He'd just keyed his mike, ready to unleash verbal hell over the tactical channel.

And then. Suddenly.

Candy.

The sound of firing alone had put the FOB on alert. Infantry were starting to rush out of their barracks, some not even fully suited up, around "Crush 'N Grind!", and were on the lookout for threats. As bits of sugar and sweets came raining down on them - they were horribly confused. One young Marine who'd sought cover to set up his machinegun beside the Maximus in question looked up just in to to splutter in surprise when a trio of rock candies pelted him in the face and caused him to lose his footing. A few even bounced along the rooftops, specifically when a pair of chocolates caught Wespe in her back, and one landed in William's cup causing a splash of coffee and whiskey that would have burned if he hadn't had his vest on.

And at that moment he watched one of the newest tanks assigned to his unit go tearing across the dirt. Marines in the way screaming and trying to avoid the speeding death machine that seemed intent on dodging some sort of attack or another. A corner of a pre-fab came off, something that the Corps of Engineers would likely be ashamed of having seen happen, and one young Marine who'd been delivering a message to his CO received severe burns up one leg at the exhaust that came shooting through the opening mere seconds later. Finally a break in the ground combined with yet another erratic turn would bring the tank careening into the back of Thunder Chief, jarring the Marine Chief and his crew, and bringing the second tank to a rough and undeniable stop.

William's lips twitched and pulled into something like an angry frown.

He finally keyed his radio on tactical channel for all to hear.

"This is Thunder Chief. Cease fire, before I start loading live rounds, and personally blast you all away."

At this he hoisted himself out of his cupola, standing tall atop his turret before stomping angrily across the rear of his own tank, onto "Squeakies" own, and as he stood atop her turret he brought his boot down hard several times on the hatch before keying his radio while waiting for her to open up.

"All units cease fire! Give me a SITREP, now!"


Just outside FOB Icebox

Samanthia's position as a far forward vanguard meant that she had slipped into the FOB's wire perimeter with relative ease - before all the confusion and chaos had erupted. Marines were still running to defensive positions, manning emplaced weapons, checking the perimeter, and all prepared for some sort of attack. Almost none were privy to the exact conversations occurring between the Crusaders and so they legitimately thought there was a hostile unit in the area. After all, it was hard to tell just what had been fired from a tank's cannon when fired with rail assistance. Few had even had time to truly register just what had come raining down on them, either, and in fact one squad of Marines had gotten in their power-armors out of fear of chemical attack.

And Long Horn had just found themselves in a world of hurt.

The blast that hit them wasn't large enough to punch through the armor, or really it just wasn't directed enough. Their tank was just cresting a rise in the ground and had been starting down the other slope of the rise when the explosion happened. The entire tank was rocked as its tail end lifted easily four feet off the ground. The force and direction of the blast caused the tank to careen and power-slide into a much older shell-blast crater before they could reasonably be expected to stop themselves. Alexander had only a moment to realize what had happened before he was made intimate with the screen directly in front of his face, while the momentum caused one hand to slip the controls, and the pain that followed as he punched the metal told him he'd likely have a busted knuckle or two.

Fitz would suffer a similar fate as her face met her screen, though her hands weren't about to go smashing into any of the interior around her. So other than a very sore, and now just starting to bleed, nose: Fitz would be fine enough to fight. Their loader was saved by virtue of where he sat to only slam shoulder-first into the wall just beside the loading mechanism that likely would have left him much worse for wear if he'd been leaning perhaps three inches further forward in his seat at the time of the blast.

Meanwhile Hamal would find himself slamming crotch-first into the back of his gunner's head before slamming back into his seat. To be honest, the gunner probably came out the worse of the two from the - meeting, despite her helmet.

The gout of dirt, smoke, and fire that shot into the sky would be tall enough for any of the tankers to see, in the FOB or otherwise, and that included Chief Parry.

"All units, button down!" He bellowed into the tactical channel, "I don't have eyes on that blast. I need a SITRP, now!"

And in the silence that followed? Keen ears would hear the distant sound of engines, and sensors were starting to ping possible hostile armor coming from wadis to the north, placing Vehicular Manslaughter" and "Long Horn" between this apparent enemy and the FOB. Matters would only be made worse when the crew of the "Long Horn" would realize that the thrum of their engine was gone - and that for whatever reason it wasn't starting up again.

Chief Parry was back on the radio in a second.

"This is Thunder Chief! Commandant has started screaming at me over comms and not just about this mess. Sensors are pinging multiple unidentified contacts. Ground Hog, get out of my spot and away from my bloody track! I need you in C'nG's spot. Crush 'N Grind, I want you out there to help Mitchell now!"

As he'd run back to his own tank, William looked to Wespe, "Get your crew in their track and ready to move, Marine!"

Already things were starting to go to hell.

"And get me a SITREP, ASAP! Who got hit and are they still alive?"
 
Inside the FOB

"Oh shi---" 'Wrench' swore as a loud Clang echoed through the tank. Engine stalled out because the tracks couldn't move, which froze up the drive chain. "We have company!" as "Wrench" put the tank in neutral and quickly fired up the Tank's still warm engine as he saw legs and tanker booted feet come marching towards their tank and disappeared with a soft thud.

'Squeakies' pulling her one again bruised eyebrows from the viewing scope, as a hard thumping came from above her closed hatch, listening to the incoming radio communications.

"All units cease fire! Give me a SITREP, now!" Over tactical channel.

'Mikey' swearing was loud and voracious, nor even repeating herself once. Restarting the engine had rebooted all her electronics, scope, range finder, what ever else she deamed important to do her job in making the 155mm shoot accurately...

'Benji' grunted in pain at the sharp hit from the seat edge where he was hanging on for dear life, when his momenteum slid his butt off the loader's seat.

Then the big tank's engine caught with a rumble, just as the command came to "button up," 'Squeakies was reaching up to release the latch, muttered, "I wish they would make up their minds..."

"This is Thunder Chief! Commandant has started screaming at me over comms and not just about this mess. Sensors are pinging multiple unidentified contacts. Ground Hog, get out of my spot and away from my bloody track! I need you in C'nG's spot. Crush 'N Grind, I want you out there to help Mitchell now!"

"Move along the perimeter and find the nearest empty tank position!" Squeakies commanded as she switched viewing scopes back to ground view and tactical monitor.

Wrench moved Ground Hog to the nearest empty tank slot, hopefully this was 'C-n-G's spot.

Squeakies was already seeing the friendlies outside the 'wire' and the approaching enemy tanks. "11, 12, 1, 3 o'clock. Range..."

Mikey interrupted "Got'tem. We cleared to fire?" Hoping that Benji was okay from hearing his grunt of pain. "Benji?"

Squeakeies on tactical feed, sounding timid? shy? spoke. "Thunderchief? Squeakies. We're cleared to fire?"

Benji patted Mikey's shoulder to let her know he was okay and ready to keep her 155mm fed as soon as Mikey fired.

Mikey lined up her gun on the first target that surprizingly Squeakies called it the way she would've. Inputting the first firing solution into the gun targeting system. Hearing the whine of the turrent moving and elevating the 155mm. Then making small adjustments to keep the enemy tank in center of the target brackets which would mean a kill or rendering the enemy tank harmless.
 
Inside the FOB

Hazmat's crew were quite the layabouts on their free time, and they spent their time after chow lounging in their beds. Inevitably, their TC called them up for some maintenance for the tank for duty later. Drone, being the newest addition to the crew, didn't like it at all that by his commander's orders he was to wear his PPE mask on him at all times. "I'm gettin' real sick of this shit. It is always in the way, and always banging on stuff." Jammer was still in his "dead" morning mood as he walked past him and smacked him on the back of the head. "Quit your bitchin' and c'mon, we are already gonna be late. The duo then walked over and met up with their gunner before shuffling through the cold to their tank.

The cannon fire startled all three into motion. Collectively, "Ohshitohshitohshit," was the term they used as they sprinted for their tank. Tyrosian was standing atop his tank looking at the trio running, who were oblivious to the massive tank flying close by, and yelled at them to hurry up. The raining candy almost literally scared the shit out of him as a few marines ran by yelling about a chemical attack. He masked up and dropped into his tank as some sweets clanked down the hatch and settled on the floor grates. The other three jumped in and sealed the tank while Adamask switched between the common channel and their tactical channel. The tank was slow to start in the cold but roared to life as the hatches were all closed up.

"All sealed. Start the clearing process." The massive behemoth dumped its current air supply, replacing it with air cycled through the filters, and effectively making it seem like their tank just let out an uncontrolled and loud sigh. "Filters reading all clean and tank cycling oxygen. Clearing air supply in three." The monster forced another wave of air out of its underbelly as it rumbled toward it's designated firing point.

"All units cease fire! Give me a SITREP, now!"

"Hazmat, all buttoned up and proceeding to designated defensive position," he muffled into his microphone. "Load AP rounds Drone." The tank slowly made it's way past the wreckage of the other tankers and sidled up next to Thunder Chief, not quite ready to ask what in the hell happened.
 
Just outside FOB Icebox

The crew of Long Horn was thrown around inside the tank, most everyone was slowly pulling themselves back up and getting situated once more, all except for Hamal that is. The commander was hunched over holding his groin and wishing that he did not get the 'naughty bits' modification to this android body. The rest of the crew quickly got back into position and began work. However they soon discovered that the engine was out, which was not good at all.

"Sir, the engine is out, and it wont start." Alexander was of course the first to notice the engine was out and not starting back up.

Hamal could hear the radio chatter and it was not sounding good, and they were sitting ducks. "Gearbox get out and quickly check the condition of the engine." He then put his hand to his neck to speak up on the radio "This is Long Horn, our engine is out and we fell into the blast crater outside the base."

Gearbox was quick to get out of his seat and climb out of the tank heading out with his tools to inspect the engine. Once outside he lifted the cover and took a look to see what was the problem.

"Fitz, get the hand crank working, radio says we might have company." Hamal was a bit irritated now, wondering who it was that shot the blast that knocked them into this mess, he had plans to put some extra hot sauce in ther food.

Fitz set up the crank and worked it a little to make sure it was working properly. "The Railgun is off line, so we can only use the standard ammunition."

"That will have to do." Responded Hamal as he took a sip from his flask.
 
"Bloody 'ell!" Johnny cursed loudly. "You heard the man, Danny! Take us out! Shields and pulse lasers on automatic."

"Chief, you want me escorting Mitchell or you want me covering Mitchell?" Johnny radioed Parry.

Jay Jay loaded the HEAP round back in and gave a thumbs up to Sammy.

"Keep us hidden, Danny. Until I know what the hell we're doing, we are not popping our heads out for a gander. But keep us moving towards Long Horn."

"Oh Great God of Tankers," Sammy intoned softly, "watch over us, your devotees, and smile greatly as we charge forth into battle. Guide our rounds true, laugh as we slaughter the poor bloody infantry, and giggle insanely as we demonstrate why You are the Manliest of War Gods to the unsuspecting fools who don't pray to You!"

"Amen!" the rest of the crew said in unison. None of them really believed in a God of Tankers but it didn't hurt. Plus, it was their ritual that they tried to do whenever possible.
 
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