A Tail for Tales

[Wolfie]

I wanted this roleplay to focus mainly on Genesis' time outside, near the wall of Haven along with inside of it. Taking place before he meets Tonus.

   A small rock formation just lay outside the wall of Haven, and inside that rock formation was a Metal Head. Genesis just looked up at the wall from inside his.... home. This was the wall that was supposed to keep Metal Heads out of the city. Nothing more, nothing less. Of course, he also spent time watching, and on occasion, harassing, KG caravans that left the city. Genesis was feeling a slight bit of lazy coming on as he watched a different KG caravan start to exit the city.

Something told him that the caravan was hiding something, something dangerous to their kind, humans.

[Darkjak87]

Just like old times, Zrion mused, wiping the sweat off his brow. Zrion was no stranger to escorting convoys through the Wasteland, being a veteran of the Wasteland War. Since the campaign had ended, however, such supply shipments had nearly ceased.

However, the Krimzon Guard still maintained a handful of operations outside the city proper, so around once each month, a large shipment of supplies would be transported by land to resupply them. It was a notoriously dangerous assignment for a Guard, given the constant risk of Metal Head attack, but it was simply another risk that Haven's finest had to undertake in order to protect their home.

Specifically, this convoy was bound for the top secret weapons lab, hidden among the mountains near the pumping station. Strictly speaking, it wasn't very far away from the City, but the route the convoy was taking was rather long, due to the need to skirt around the mountains, as there was no direct route to the facility from Haven itself. Thus, despite the relatively short distance, the trip would take several days at least, not helped in the slightest by the slow speed of the cargo transports.

However, this obviously wasn't a normal shipment. In addition to twenty regular soldiers, the better part of a platoon, a detachment of Special Operations soldiers had been assigned to the convoy. A four-man squad from Zrion's own Fourth Echelon would be traveling with the convoy directly, while a unit of snipers from Rafael Swain's Third Echelon would be keeping their distance, providing overwatch for the convoy as it moved.

"So, Commander," Thompson, the medic of Zrion's squad, began, "what's in this convoy, exactly?"

Zrion raised an eyebrow. "Supplies, food and water, ammo, guns, the usual."

The other members of his squad simply stared at him, unamused.

Zrion rolled his eyes. "Alright, yeah, we wouldn't be here if this was a normal shipment. But I don't know what's special about it. Apparently, it's classified."

"Above our clearance level?" Mendoza, the squad's grenadier, asked incredulously.

"Yeah. Makes you think, doesn't it?" Zrion asked, rhetorically. "Either way, we've got a job to do, so stay focused."

"We won't let you down sir," Braeburn, the final member of Zrion's squad, assured him.

"Good to hear." Zrion replied, smiling inwardly. His squad had never let him down before, why should they do so now?

Despite his assurances, Zrion himself couldn't help but be curious. He was unable to resist glancing at the vehicle in the center of the convoy. It was a specially modified cargo transport, with only slightly less armor than a main battle tank, codenamed 'Topaz One'. It was, according to Zrion's orders, to be defended at all costs.

In addition to being more heavily armored than the other cargo transports, it was also strictly off limits; while most of the soldiers guarding the convoy would be riding in the other cargo transports, the only ones allowed inside Topaz One were the three men that made up its crew, who were being extremely tight-lipped about the contents of the vehicle.

"Sir, what kind of support do we have for this mission?" Mendoza asked.

Zrion knew him well enough to know that the real question was 'why don't we have more of our people here?', and he answered as such.

"Well, the rest of Swain's guys are off investigating reports of Metal Head activity near the Drill Platform. The Brass thinks the damn things might be putting together an assault. The Second Echelon's always busy, probably trying to stab a gang lord in the back or something at the moment. First Echelon, last I heard, was clearing out the old eco mine just outside the city, something about Metal Heads trying to tunnel under the wall. I can call in the rest of my unit if we need to, but they could be assigned a mission at any time. So, for now, count on it being just us."

"Understood, sir." Mendoza replied.

However, any further questions were quickly put on hold as Zrion's radio lit up.

"Angel Team, this is Overwatch, we're in position and awaiting further instructions," Captain Swain, the leader of the Third Echelon, reported.

Although the Third Echelon had only assigned one squad to the mission, Captain Swain, aware of the importance of their task, had elected to take direct command of the squad for the mission.

Zrion glanced eastward, seeing the ridge several-hundred meters distant where Overwatch had set up for the time being. "Copy that Overwatch, see anything out of place?"

"Negative, everything looks clear so far. First Echelon swept through here last week, cleared out a few raiding parties. Metal Heads have been keeping their heads down since then. If I squint, I think I can still see the craters in my scope."

Zrion laughed. "Can't say that I blame them. I wouldn't want to be on that end of a flamethrower either. By the way, how's the view? I hear the Wasteland looks lovely this time of year."

"Breathtaking, Commander. I've never seen such beautiful shades of brown and yellow," Swain chuckled.

"Sounds nice Captain, but keep an eye out for any purple, would you?" Zrion replied, getting serious.

"That's what we're here for, Commander. We'll keep you informed, Swain out."

Zrion returned his attention to the convoy, consisting of a dozen bulky cargo transports, flanked on either side by eight KG Speeder Bikes, which were lightly armed and armored, but made up for it with speed and numbers.

The speeder bikes would be hugging the ground, scouting the areas ahead and forming a wide, mobile perimeter around the cargo transports. If all went well, the defensive screen formed by the bikes would prevent any hostiles from getting near the convoy.

"Commander, this is Lieutenant Woods. We're ready to move out," a new voice reported over the radio.

"Roger that Lieutenant. Angel Team, mount up. We're heading out." Zrion ordered his squad.

The KG soldiers piled into the transports, which fortunately had enough room for them all. Zrion glanced around one final time before climbing into the nearest transport with his own squad, closing the hatch behind him.

After sitting down next to another member of his squad, Zrion activated his radio again. "Zrion to Desert Fox Actual, are the Speeder Bikes ready to deploy?"

"By your word, Commander," came the reply.

"Good. Get those bikes in the air, spread out and patrol the surrounding area. Report in every half hour. I'll leave the finer details to you."

"Roger that, Desert Fox moving out."

The faint whine of repulsor lifts was heard as the Krimzon Speeder Bikes came online, the sound quickly fading as they moved away to scout the area.

Finally, with everything in place, Zrion switched to the open channel. "Zrion to all units, we're ready to depart. Operation Winter is a go, repeat, Operation Winter is a go."

With that final order, the convoy set out, leaving the safety of Haven's walls and beginning a long and treacherous journey.

[Wolfie]

   Genesis' curiosity took control as he noticed the rather large number of Guardsmen at hand. Must be something really important for a large number of troopers to be around a simple convoy, then again, this might not be your average convoy. With that initiative in play, Genesis stepped forth from his makeshift home of rocks and took a quick stretch. Satisfying pops of his joints filled his ears before he fully stopped.

"Now," Genesis popped his neck, "just what exactly are they hiding?" The Metal Head took of the a slight blur, making sure to keep his distance from the convoy at all costs and for the love of all that is him, hide. Hiding had to take some sort of skill due to his slightly bigger size and length, but he managed to do so out int he wastes by hiding in ditches and behind some structures out here. Now all he needed to do was wait, follow, and observe. If he wasn't curious enough, he was sure one of these days it was going to get him killed.

[Darkjak87]

The next hour of travel was uneventful, something for which Zrion was thankful. It wasn't surprising, however, considering how they were still relatively near the city walls. Metal Heads tended to avoid the walls unless they were really trying to muscle in, as in small numbers they tended to be picked off by KG sharpshooters on the parapet.

However, now that they were several miles away from the wall, Zrion had to admit that he felt a lot more exposed. Oh, sure, he was sent out into the Wasteland at least a few times a month on various missions, but this time he was anchored in place by a rather slow and vulnerable convoy. Although twenty armed Guardsmen, eight Speeder Bikes, a team of Third Echelon snipers, and one of his own squads was certainly a force to be reckoned with, Zrion knew perfectly well that the Metal Heads could commit a lot more to a fight than that.

It's about avoiding notice, he thought, but that only works as long as we aren't noticed. If any of the bastards show up in force, we're screwed.

He pushed such thoughts out of his mind, however. Although a pessimist always had a chance of being pleasantly surprised, it certainly wasn't reassuring.

"Angel Team, this is Overwatch, come in," spoke the Captain through his radio.

Frowning, Zrion pressed his finger to his own earpiece. "What is it, Captain?"

"Convoy's getting out of range, pretty soon we won't be able to cover you anymore. We need to move. It shouldn't take us long, but you'll be exposed in the meantime."

Zrion sighed. "I suppose it had to happen sooner or later. Go ahead and move up, tell me when you're back in place."

"Roger that sir, Overwatch moving out."

Up on the ridge, back by the city wall, the four men moved quickly, disassembling their specialized sniper rifles and packing them into cases. That done, they moved over to their own transport vehicles, four KG speeder bikes, identical to the ones patrolling around the convoy, except for the fact that the squad had been unable to resist painting them in the colors of Special Operations, namely, black and white.

Mounting up, the soldiers quickly took off toward their next destination, another ridge a few minutes' flight away from their current position.

Back with the convoy, Zrion was just about to doze off when another voice snapped him back to alertness.

"Commander!" Lieutenant Woods spoke urgently, "Fox Three has just reported a Metal Head sighting on our course, about five minutes away at the current speed. Looks like a pack of Grunts, nothing too serious, but that can't be a good sign."

"Dammit, already?" Zrion sighed angrily. "What do you need?"

"My bikes can handle it, but I'll have to pull some of them off the patrol routes. I figure I need four of them, that way we can strafe them from different directions and confuse them."

"Sounds like a plan, Lieutenant. Do it, and tell the rest of the bikes to step it up, we can't afford any gaps in our perimeter while they're dealing with them."

"Affirmative, Commander. Desert Fox two and five on me, we're linking up with three and taking out those Metal Heads." the Lieutenant ordered.

A chorus of affirmatives followed as the pilots acknowledged their orders, before the radios fell silent again.

Braeburn groaned. "Metal Heads already? And here I was, thinking I might get some beauty sleep in after all."

"The reds can handle this one." Zrion assured him. "They usually can unless there's a lot of them, then we have to do it. So enjoy it while you can."

Thompson sighed happily as he put his feet up on a supply crate. "Now that, Commander, I can do." Zrion chuckled at his antics.

Well, so much for a nap, he thought unhappily.

[Wolfie]

  Genesis saw the large movement in the speeder bikes and decided to take this chance. Over the past hour a group of Metal Head grunts had decided to tail him out of curiosity, too bad Genesis didn't say anything about why he was following a convoy. Genesis had them go a few miles behind to see if anything would happen. And boy was he glad. Genesis dashed ahead and turn a full 90 degrees towards the convoy, this was a risky shot, but he might as well try it. Genesis increased his dash and rolled about halfway in to end up one of the bulky zoomer transports about to come by.

   This was his only shot at trying to find out what these guardsmen were hiding, as long as he didn't get spotted and shot at, anyway. Meanwhile, across the way, the small pack of Metal Head grunts noticed some KG speeder bikes heading their way. No doubt that they were following orders from Genesis himself. They, more or less, viewed Genesis as a god and would follow him without question to orders. They did find it strange that their 'god' didn't want casualties unless need be. But the need arose as they were about to defend themselves from an assault.

[Darkjak87]

The four Krimzon Zoomers sped smoothly above the hot desert sand, the underslung cannons barely inches above the ground as the pilots skillfully maneuvered their craft.

There were approximately twenty Metal Heads, according to Fox Three, just beyond the hill ahead of the bikes, and thankfully had not noticed him before he could retreat and call it in.

"Alright, standard attack run." Lieutenant Woods, a decorated veteran of the Krimzon Dragoons and the Wasteland War, ordered. "Once we crest the hill, hit them with everything we've got while closing the distance. Once we hit 50 meters, Fox three and five will turn left, while two and I will head right. We'll circle around them and hammer them until they're down. Got it?"

"Yes sir!" The pilots replied as one.

Woods nodded grimly. "Good. We can't afford casualties this early in the game, so everyone be careful. Make it happen."

Seconds later, the four speeder bikes reached the hill, angling upwards sharply to make the descent. Barely a moment later, they reached the top, coming to a halt in order to allow the pilots to take note of the situation.

"Damn, that's a lot for four bikes..." one of the pilots muttered.

"Keep it together, soldier." Woods said calmly. "It's damn hard to hit a maneuvering Zoomer, you'll be fine."

"Yes sir." the pilot responded, seemingly reassured.

"Alright, you have your orders! Hit it, Dragoons!"

With a loud battle cry, the Zoomers revved up, shooting forward at the surprised pack of Metal Heads. Lieutenant Woods thumbed a trigger on his right handlebar, and a thick superheated bolt of red eco flew forth from the cannon under his Zoomer. He observed briefly as it sailed toward the Metal Heads, and allowed himself a satisfied smirk as he saw it take one of the Grunts squarely in the face, dropping it like a rock.

He continued firing as the bikes closed, the other soldiers joining in the barrage, sending multiple Metal Heads down in pools of blue-black blood.

By the time they reached the 50 meter mark, eight of the Metal Heads had been killed. However, by then, the Metal Heads had figured out what was happening, and with a roar, they returned fire with their own rifles, which were primitive compared to KG weapons, but still very much functional.

"Split up! Draw the eights!" Woods barked at his Dragoons.

Highly disciplined, the elite KG pilots reacted immediately, splitting into two groups, one going left, the other right. The return fire from the Metal Heads passed harmlessly between the two groups, as the Metal Heads had not anticipated such a sudden change of tactics.

The two groups continued flying forward, straight past the group of Metal Heads at opposing 45 degree angles.

"Give it another 50 meters, then turn around and hit 'em again!" the Lieutenant ordered.

As fast as the Zoomers were, there was only one pilot each, and they could not hope to both steer their vehicle and aim and fire the gun, therefore the weapons were only capable of aiming straight ahead. Thus, most of the tactics for a battle such as this were based around orienting their bikes to face the enemy as often as possible, which would both enable the pilots to more effectively see and evade incoming fire, and return fire.

Perfectly in sync, the Zoomers reached the 50 meter mark, and quickly turned their craft around, one craft in each group going right, while its partner went left, putting them both side-by-side and facing the Metal Heads again in a seamless maneuver, 'drawing the eights' as the Lieutenant had ordered.

Without a further order from their commander, the bikes charged the Metal Heads again, firing their cannons as rapidly as they could without slagging the barrels with excess heat.

With only fifty meters distance, the second charge lasted less then five seconds, although it was still enough time to bring down another five Metal Heads, leaving only seven more standing.

The two groups repeated their last maneuver, flying past the pack at top speed and at different angles, in order to minimize the ability of the Metal Heads to concentrate their fire.

"All bikes! On me!" Woods ordered. Their numbers culled, it was time to finish them off.

The other bikes responded seamlessly, slipping into a wide wedge formation with Woods at the tip. They stayed on course, flying away from away from the pack of Metal Heads, eventually putting a full 100 meters distance between them. Once he had reached that unspoken threshold, the Lieutenant brought his bike back around, angling toward the Metal Heads, the others falling in behind him.

"Final charge! Hit them with everything you've got and tear through the pack!" Woods ordered.

A tactic like that was always risky, but potentially very rewarding. If the enemy was already reeling, a charge directly through their lines could easily scatter them, reducing the unit to a confused rabble.

The bikes accelerated toward the pack for the third time at top speed, guns blazing all the while. By the time they reached the group again, there were only three Metal Heads left. Rather than split apart as they had previously, the bikes simply rammed into them, crushing the remaining Metal Heads on the fronts of their Zoomers.

"Dragoons, halt!" Woods ordered.

They obeyed immediately, maintaining their formation behind the Lieutenant as he surveyed the battlefield.

Twenty corpses, all Grunts, surrounded them, black blood soaking into the scorching sands. "Casualties? Damage?" Woods asked.

"I'm good." One soldier reported.

"Same here!" replied another.

The others replied the same, and Woods gave a satisfied nod. They had neutralized the pack without taking any losses. "Good work men. Head back to the convoy, fall back into your patrol routes, they're exposed without us."

The Krimzon Dragoons acknowledged his command, and turned tail to head back towards the convoy.

"Commander, this is Woods," he spoke into his radio, "all hostiles are down, the path is clear."

"Casualties?" Zrion inquired.

"None."

"Good. Head back to the convoy, resume standard patrol paths."

"Already done, Commander." Woods said, almost smugly.

"Nice work. Let's hope that's the last we see of them."

Not bloody likely, Zrion thought privately.

[Wolfie]

   Shortly after Genesis had attached himself to the bottom of one of the transports, he heard gunfire and feared the worst. He never liked fighting, only did when he had to, but he wanted to get closer to this convoy and planned the distraction to see just exactly what they were hiding. Genesis took the one thing he knew most, a silence for his possible fallen comrades, even as he heard the roar in the distance as his group would be engaged for the time being.

   "Fighting.." Genesis mumbled to himself, closing the distance of the underside with his body, ".. the purest form of hatred I've ever seen. It causes nothing but trouble and will always bring about wars that are unneeded." He took a moment to adjust, finding the metal a lot more comfy than his rock pile of a home. "Too late to mourn now. There are higher things at stake than fallen kin." Genesis stated to noone in particular with a sort of determination. Mostly the determination was to see this through, possibly.

[Darkjak87]

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, something that came as a pleasant surprise for Zrion, since once Metal Heads started showing up, usually there would be no end to them. This was good news, as it indicated that the encounter had been purely coincidental, and that since none of the Metal Heads had survived the encounter with the KG, none had managed to inform the Metal Heads' mysterious leaders of their presence.

However, the sun was now going down, and the men were tired, especially the Dragoons patrolling the surrounding areas, who had been operating nonstop for the entire day under the beating sun. In particular, Woods' hastily assembled team had earned a good rest for their impressive victory earlier in the day.

"Alright, that's enough for today. All vehicles, halt. We're making camp here." Zrion ordered over the open channel.

The heavy vehicles came to a stop in a shallow dip in the earth, the surrounding dunes offering some slight protection from any prying eyes.

"Zrion to Woods, bring in your Dragoons for refueling. I'd say your guys have earned a rest."

"That they have, Commander. We'll be there in about two minutes, over."

The rear door of the cargo transport slid open, forming a ramp down to the rapidly cooling ground below. Zrion stepped out, giving the surrounding area a cursory glance.

Satisfied that they were in a reasonably defensive position, Zrion began giving orders to the other soldiers as they piled out of their own transports, assigning them to such tasks as building campfires, pitching tents, and digging temporary defensive positions into the ground around the camp, in case of an attack.

The men worked quickly, seeing how they had done little else than ride in the transports all day, and within the next twenty minutes several campfires had been established, soldiers crowding around them for warmth due to the rapidly cooling temperatures.

Funny how deserts always get so damn cold at night, Zrion thought.

He sent half a dozen soldiers to the hastily dug foxholes surrounding the camp to keep watch, the IR optics built into their helmets ensuring that they had good visibility, even in complete darkness. The soldiers would rotate perimeter defense duty on a four hour basis, ensuring that everyone got a fair amount of sleep. An additional two soldiers would be standing guard in front of Topaz One, ensuring that no one got too curious about it's mysterious cargo.

The Krimzon Dragoons had reported in right on time, as promised, although Zrion had simply congratulated them on a job well done, followed by orders to get some rest. Privately, Zrion was very impressed by the men that had handled the brief skirmish earlier. Although the tactics they had used were typical for the Dragoons, it was rare for such a numerically inferior force to inflict such a defeat without taking casualties of their own.

Captain Swain's Third Echelon squad remained in their own camp half a mile away, keeping an eye on the surrounding areas with their own night vision optics. They would also be taking shifts, with one spotter and one sniper being awake at a time. It wasn't ideal, having their snipers working on four hours of sleep per night, but it was necessary in order to ensure constant coverage of the convoy, especially with the Speeder Bikes grounded for the night.

Zrion personally would have preferred to keep at least some of the bikes patrolling, but the unfortunate truth was that, despite the skill of the pilots, they needed to be maintained, and the pilots themselves needed sleep just like everyone else. The perimeter defenses would have to do for now, along with the watchful eye of Overwatch.

Half an hour after Zrion had given the order to halt, the camp had calmed, soldiers sitting around the fires making idle conversation, many of them stripping down to their underclothing to clean their armor, or simply to enjoy the time they had to be out of it.

Zrion could understand, but personally he preferred to keep his armor on at all times in such a hostile environment as the Wasteland. Besides, while it was hardly cozy, Special Operations Armor was custom-fitted to the wearer, making wearing it for long periods of time quite tolerable, even while sleeping.

After an hour or two had passed, Zrion gave the order for the soldiers not on watch to get some rest. Switching on his own IR optics, Zrion glanced around one final time before nodding in satisfaction that, for now, they were safe. Flipping them back off, Zrion removed his helmet and crawled into his own tent, closing the flap behind him and laying down for a rest. All things considered, things weren't going too badly.

[Wolfie]

   Genesis lowered himself to the ground to observe his surroundings. Night, somewhere that looks like a valley maybe, and two pairs of feet near him. "Not what I was expecting." Genesis muttered under his breath, the last thing he needed were guards on patrol. He looked around from the underside of the transport for a sizable rock, but found nothing. Then an idea appeared, knock out the guards. Genesis slowly slid himself out from under the transport and climbed on top of it with barely a noise. He gazed down. "Perfect... now, if I jump on one, I only have a seconds moment to silence the other." Genesis let his thoughts come to a manifest before taking action. Then he pounced. Genesis jumped on top of one of the guards, his weight knocking the clad-armored man out cold. The other was about the panic and alert the camp or take a shot, Genesis dispatched the guard with his tail and slammed him against and transport several times until he fell limp against his body.

   Genesis let the body slide off of his and into the dust. "Now." Genesis spoke quietly to himself. "To see just what is behind Door Number One." He slowly pried the door open with his tail just enough for him to slip in this transport, letting come to a slow closing point after he was inside. Didn't look like much, just a rather large item covered in a tarp and barrels lined with a purple band in the middle. The barrels could be shrugged off as eco, as for the tarped item, that was where the real curiosity hung. Genesis took the tarp in his mouth and tugged at it until it slid off the strange form. He couldn't believe his eyes once he saw what they were protecting.

"This can't be..." Genesis had a tone of terror dance around is voice. What did he just stumble upon?

[Darkjak87]

Operative Williams of the Third Echelon tried in vain to stifle a yawn, briefly looking away from his scope to do so. He blinked several times, slightly disoriented by the sudden change of perspective. He then returned his attention to his scope, aiming the rifle toward the KG camp, clearly visible thanks to his night vision optics.

"How much time is left on our shift?" Williams asked his spotter, without looking up.

"Another hour, then Swain and Gallows take over," Operative Jameson replied.

Williams didn't answer, briefly sweeping his aim to the left, ensuring there wasn't anything attempting to sneak up on the camp from that direction.

"You picking anything up?" Williams asked, more out of boredom than anything.

"Nothing, it's quiet. I suppose that's a good thing, but something seems off about this. We've been out here all day and have only been attacked once?"

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Williams responded. "Usually once they find you, they keep attacking until you're either dead or you retreat. We should have seen more of them by now. Something doesn't add up."

"Just keep an eye out, we're going to get hit sooner or later, I just know it."

"Yeah, it's just a matter of - hey wait, what's that?" Williams said suddenly.

"What? Where?" Jameson asked quickly, looking through his binoculars.

"By the transports, Topaz One. The Guards are down!"

"Damn! Swain, we've got a problem!" Jameson called.

The Captain was awake in seconds, brandishing his rifle as he knelt down next to Williams. He raised the rifle up, looking through the scope at camp.

"Damn, they're down all right. But what...?" Swain muttered to himself.

It was then that he saw movement. A Metal Head, of a type that he didn't recognize, opening the cargo transport and sneaking in.

"The hell is that...?" Williams breathed. By then, the last member of the squad, Sergeant Gallows, had joined the other three men, observing the camp with his own scope.

"Want us to take it out?" Gallows asked gruffly.

"No!" Swain said sharply, shaking his head. "It's already inside Topaz One. If we take the shot, we might hit the cargo. I'm calling it in."

Reaching up to his earpiece, Swain activated his radio. "Swain to Zrion, come in!"

Down in the camp, Zrion was awakened by Swain's voice drifting over from his helmet. Groaning in annoyance, he reached over, slipping it back on so as to hear the Captain properly.

"Zrion here, what's wrong?" he asked tiredly.

"There's a Metal Head in the camp, classification unknown. We don't know how it got in, but it's opened Topaz One and it's inside!"

That certainly woke him up, and Zrion immediately scrambled out of his tent, grabbing his assault rifle as he did.

"Everyone get up! Now! Suit up, grab your gear, we've got a Metal Head in the camp!" Zrion bellowed at the top of his voice. At once, the soldiers on perimeter defense duty perked up, while the rest of the men began climbing out of their tents, trying frantically to pull on the various bits of their armor and ready their weapons.

As Zrion expected, his own squad was ready in moments, falling in behind him as he strode across the camp towards Topaz One. A handful of regular Guards who had already been in their armor fell in behind him as well.

Zrion came to a stop about ten meters from Topaz One, racking the bolt on his rifle and chambering a round. The rest of his squad similarly readied their weapons, and all of them aimed them towards the now compromised vehicle.

"Get ready!" Zrion commanded, his previous grogginess completely forgotten. "You are free to fire, but don't hit the cargo! Wait for it to come out, then take it down!"