Post by on Nov 9, 2009 16:40:54 GMT -5
One by one the remaining Schutzstaffel filed down the ladder of the U-99. The squad leader, Ritter Novosad looked over the borderline of the coastal town. His eyes scanned for any pursuant forces. Alley ways and windows on the salt decayed buildings remained vacant; about half of them were closed while the occupants of the others took cover so quickly their shutters still batted against the walls in the wind. Their abandonment was likely the product the Zeon battleship, the Jukon class submarine emerging from the surface in the middle of their marina would have that effect if the gunshots in the distance had not. Twisting his waist the commander watched his last comrade slide down the passageway and into the stomach of his craft. Turning around he got a glimpse of a few eyes peering at him from the window sills. Time was up. He leapt backwards from the wooden dock, splashing into the water which came with a loud crash of his boots against the hull. Waves pushed hard against his legs as he climbed to the hatch. Glancing at the water as he descended into the darkness, he could see the waves get restless. There had been rainstorms in the area, picking up speed and moving onto the island. Perhaps it was for the best they were pulling out, visibility would be dropping soon. Indeed the rain would favor the Federation today. It would save them the chore of hosing their friends and neighbors blood off the road.
As the soldier gripped the rungs of the ladder he noticed the thick fluid under his hands as he lowered himself down. It was creating a red pool at the foot of the ladder. Blood. Not his own although he had no doubt he would be adding a pint or two on the flooring before the medics would stop the bleeding, at least. Undoing a few restraints he removed the Doppelcchsel and tossed it to the ground. He proceeded to tear open the uniform the expose the wounded shoulder, shrapnel imbedded deep inside. The wound was not deadly but it would keep him off the war path for a few days. He took off the helmet and gasmask, throwing them to the ground as he pushed away a few of the submarine staff trying to speak to the Unterscharfuhrer.
His good arm grabbed an intercom off the wall. He spoke into it, spreading his word throughout all areas of the ship. Every hand on that sub would hear his voice and know his presence.
“Pull out from the harbor quickly. Zero enemy aircraft visible. Cloud cover from a storm is coming in from the south west. Set a course inwards for 23 miles then break course around the island’s west side to reunite with the fleet. Get me a report from Hauptscharfuhrer Brennan, and keep an ear on the VLF, I want to know why that TAF officer pulled back. Infirmary, prep for incoming.”
He dropped the handset and let it hang by a wire. His walk to the bridge of the submersible vessel was a cramped one. Removing piece after piece of bullet scarred armor as he walked, dropping it to the ground and adding bit more blood to the scenery. His subordinates stayed in their uniform and silently followed him as he stripped his upper torso armor off and left everything else, goggles included. He quickly gave motions as he came to an intersection in the heart of maze. The infantry quickly filed down to the infirmary while two medics came from the same direction and started to examine Ritter’s wounds.
The bridge was cramped like always, but it seemed more restrictive to the soldier with the two medics trying to turn his soldier every few seconds to stab him with a tool and drop a shrapnel piece to the ground. He could hear the ocean swallow the sub as they left the harbor and fell back into the womb of the sea. He approached a seated official in the corner, removed his vision module from his mask and dropped it in front of the uniformed man.
“Analyze the video and get a map out of it. Buildings, doors, alleyways, sewer entrances, I want everything. Ready it and distribute within two hours in case of a second wave attack."
The SS soldier reflected on his actions. It was unique for this kind of interaction. His own troops from the program had the same train of thought, the same being almost. Everything he would want to convey would be only a motion away. This submarine was different, they started off as inexperienced but had quickly adapted. Ritter had adapted to them in a way. He was seen around the craft without the gas mask on while among the bridge, letting him speak clearly and straight forward to those under him, and even now some of the staff looked on at the soldier as they saw his flesh and blood. His face still remained covered however, the vision module removed a black mask, and about two inches tall remained in its place, perhaps a part of the original suit’s design. He looked about and issued a few more orders. He still had to instruct them, but they were improving. They would need to improve still if they were to meet his expectations.
As the soldier gripped the rungs of the ladder he noticed the thick fluid under his hands as he lowered himself down. It was creating a red pool at the foot of the ladder. Blood. Not his own although he had no doubt he would be adding a pint or two on the flooring before the medics would stop the bleeding, at least. Undoing a few restraints he removed the Doppelcchsel and tossed it to the ground. He proceeded to tear open the uniform the expose the wounded shoulder, shrapnel imbedded deep inside. The wound was not deadly but it would keep him off the war path for a few days. He took off the helmet and gasmask, throwing them to the ground as he pushed away a few of the submarine staff trying to speak to the Unterscharfuhrer.
His good arm grabbed an intercom off the wall. He spoke into it, spreading his word throughout all areas of the ship. Every hand on that sub would hear his voice and know his presence.
“Pull out from the harbor quickly. Zero enemy aircraft visible. Cloud cover from a storm is coming in from the south west. Set a course inwards for 23 miles then break course around the island’s west side to reunite with the fleet. Get me a report from Hauptscharfuhrer Brennan, and keep an ear on the VLF, I want to know why that TAF officer pulled back. Infirmary, prep for incoming.”
He dropped the handset and let it hang by a wire. His walk to the bridge of the submersible vessel was a cramped one. Removing piece after piece of bullet scarred armor as he walked, dropping it to the ground and adding bit more blood to the scenery. His subordinates stayed in their uniform and silently followed him as he stripped his upper torso armor off and left everything else, goggles included. He quickly gave motions as he came to an intersection in the heart of maze. The infantry quickly filed down to the infirmary while two medics came from the same direction and started to examine Ritter’s wounds.
The bridge was cramped like always, but it seemed more restrictive to the soldier with the two medics trying to turn his soldier every few seconds to stab him with a tool and drop a shrapnel piece to the ground. He could hear the ocean swallow the sub as they left the harbor and fell back into the womb of the sea. He approached a seated official in the corner, removed his vision module from his mask and dropped it in front of the uniformed man.
“Analyze the video and get a map out of it. Buildings, doors, alleyways, sewer entrances, I want everything. Ready it and distribute within two hours in case of a second wave attack."
The SS soldier reflected on his actions. It was unique for this kind of interaction. His own troops from the program had the same train of thought, the same being almost. Everything he would want to convey would be only a motion away. This submarine was different, they started off as inexperienced but had quickly adapted. Ritter had adapted to them in a way. He was seen around the craft without the gas mask on while among the bridge, letting him speak clearly and straight forward to those under him, and even now some of the staff looked on at the soldier as they saw his flesh and blood. His face still remained covered however, the vision module removed a black mask, and about two inches tall remained in its place, perhaps a part of the original suit’s design. He looked about and issued a few more orders. He still had to instruct them, but they were improving. They would need to improve still if they were to meet his expectations.