Trials and Tribulations: Interlude
Posted By: Capn Rasc<Rasculia38@msn.com>
Date: 8 May 2006, 7:55 am
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The Warthogs roared over the snowy embankment in which our foxholes were dug and skidded to a halt on the icy ground. Each of the three Warthogs carried three marines, and two of the passengers were carrying "Spanker" rocket launchers. The gunners swept the sky and the surrounding are as one of the drivers hopped out and approached.
"You boys sure took your sweet time getting here," I said, "Hope you brought some Joe."
"No go on the Joe Lieutenant," said the driver, a Corporal whose IFF transponder identified him as one J.C. Jones of Tango Company, "Boys at the squirrel cage want us to assess the situation then pull you back to the base for debriefing." The "squirrel cage" was the name of the ONI sector base on the other side of the planet and which had broad jurisdiction over everything that happened on planet within its own infrastructure or within the command of the Marine forces on base. The name is a throwback to a term applied to the central command base of the United States back hundreds of years before I was born, but its fitting. When ONI gets excited, they run in circles, make a lot of noise, and sometimes throw nuts at people in the form of intel agents or, rarely, Spartans.
"Can't the bloody spooks let us stay here and do our job?" asked Tom.
"Orders," said Jones with the helpless shrug of the messenger who is in danger of getting shot for brining bad news, "We're to take over your position and give you a lift back to base for immediate transfer."
"And it was just starting to be an interesting shift too," put it Mike.
"If the spooks are getting interested," commented Jessie, "Then it may be about to get too interesting."
"Good point," said Mike, as the passengers of the three Warthogs took up our former positions in the foxholes, and one of the Hogs was park in a slight defallade and manned by a gunner. I felt sorry for the guy on the gun, because despite all the claims by their manufacturers the cold-weather combat suits were not warm, toasty, or comfortable. At least in a foxhole you were out of the elements and below ground level, which helped a little with temperature, even on a planet that is mostly ice. Out on the gun it would get real chilly real fast.
I shook my head as I climbed into one of the other Warthogs passenger seats as Jessie wedged himself into the back between the turret and the two front seats as best he could. The faulty cold weather gear was yet another sign of how truly screwed up humanity could be. Here we were, fighting a war which could very well wipe out the species, and the soldiers fighting on the frontlines are being issued gear which is proven to be faulty by the same group that makes the armor, and yet the company won't change it because it would cost them more money. So what if more Marines may freeze to death, at least the bigwigs in the contracting department and the companies that the UNSC contracts with are making money.
With a roar the two Hogs carrying my squad lurched and turned ponderously uphill, churning over the embankment with their massive off-road tires and scooting down the other side and across the frozen surface of the planet towards a few low-lying structures that marked the location of Alpha base.
"If Alpha base gets attacked while we're gone and I miss the action, heads are gonna roll," muttered Mike.
"Look on the bright side," I said, "ONI will probably have heaters and coffee and hot food and showers and bunks...you'll get to thaw out a little."
"Yeah, but they won't let us use any of it. Pass it off my cleanliness and happiness as a risk to the security of our mission." I snorted.
"What mission?" put in Tom over the radio from his seat in the other LRV, "All we've been told was 'Sit here, make sure you shoot any enemies, and don't die if you can help it.' We don't even know what we're really protecting!"
"This is new?" I asked, "Since when were we ever told what we were dying for, other than humanity and the Corps. You really shouldn't complain Big T, we're not supposed to know...sometimes it's better not to even."
"Just once though I'd like to know why I'm stuck on some frozen out of the way hellhole in space rather than fighting the actual war on the frontlines."
I looked back towards our sentry post, "Then you should be happy...the wars finally found us."
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