Post by ender on Apr 27, 2010 12:15:12 GMT -5
It never felt right to be in the second seat of a Xamel ever. Yet here he was, sitting in it since the Hildolfr had cracked some ice under it as they had been traveling through the arctic, and he had only made it out before it sank into the frozen waters before.
Seems that the treads and weight of the massive mobile weapon had finally given all she could, before the ice cracked. Now, Alec Irusk, bittern veteran and instructor, was sitting in the secondary cockpit of a Xamel, his former unit, crossing the arctic.
He had an almost constant scowl on his face, still disgusted with the ending of Odessa during the retreat. "Goddamn the Federal Forces." He muttered under his breath, as he closed his eyes, thinking to the final moments of the battle. To Sergeant Kratikoff's face, blood trickling from her brow as she sent out the final message to him, before the Decimator suffered a fatal blow from a shell from a Big Tray.
The explosion could have been seen from his position, conducting the artillery barrage to hold off the Federal Forces from the center. The loss of both his closest officer and the trusted veteran who commanded the ship had harmed him deeply. It almost felt as though his legs had been cut out under him. All he was left with, was Private First Class Haley Sloan, the pilot of his former Xamel. She had been a promising pilot at the academy, and when he was assigned her during the planning of Operation Odessa, had left him feeling confident.
Now she was all he had left. He looked back out through the view screen, the constant targeting reticle of the massive howitzer cannon marring the scene.
"Sir! Unidentified contact, directly below us. It's big, almost the size of a Jukon." Her voice was husky, as if she'd been smoking since she was sixteen. His eyes turned directly to the monitor, as the ice seemed to crack beneath them, a fissure forming in front of them, until it finally broke, and the nose of a Jukon came through, various battle scars showing on the hull.
"You seem to be right, Private. We'll see what we're dealing with in a few moments." His finger was tense on the trigger of the Xamel's Howitzer, as the behemoth submarine seemed to relax. Perhaps the Federation had gotten their hands on one during the assault on Odessa. With the M-Particles in the air, and the confusion of the battle, it was possible.
All they could do, was wait.
(To Be Continued when I return from Work and Warmachine.)
Seems that the treads and weight of the massive mobile weapon had finally given all she could, before the ice cracked. Now, Alec Irusk, bittern veteran and instructor, was sitting in the secondary cockpit of a Xamel, his former unit, crossing the arctic.
He had an almost constant scowl on his face, still disgusted with the ending of Odessa during the retreat. "Goddamn the Federal Forces." He muttered under his breath, as he closed his eyes, thinking to the final moments of the battle. To Sergeant Kratikoff's face, blood trickling from her brow as she sent out the final message to him, before the Decimator suffered a fatal blow from a shell from a Big Tray.
The explosion could have been seen from his position, conducting the artillery barrage to hold off the Federal Forces from the center. The loss of both his closest officer and the trusted veteran who commanded the ship had harmed him deeply. It almost felt as though his legs had been cut out under him. All he was left with, was Private First Class Haley Sloan, the pilot of his former Xamel. She had been a promising pilot at the academy, and when he was assigned her during the planning of Operation Odessa, had left him feeling confident.
Now she was all he had left. He looked back out through the view screen, the constant targeting reticle of the massive howitzer cannon marring the scene.
"Sir! Unidentified contact, directly below us. It's big, almost the size of a Jukon." Her voice was husky, as if she'd been smoking since she was sixteen. His eyes turned directly to the monitor, as the ice seemed to crack beneath them, a fissure forming in front of them, until it finally broke, and the nose of a Jukon came through, various battle scars showing on the hull.
"You seem to be right, Private. We'll see what we're dealing with in a few moments." His finger was tense on the trigger of the Xamel's Howitzer, as the behemoth submarine seemed to relax. Perhaps the Federation had gotten their hands on one during the assault on Odessa. With the M-Particles in the air, and the confusion of the battle, it was possible.
All they could do, was wait.
(To Be Continued when I return from Work and Warmachine.)