Commissar Farzi
New member
- Joined
- Nov 4, 2021
- Messages
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- 5
The Rock, Prologue
The beer was unusually weak today; Morris grimaced at the gritty, almost flavorless taste of the drink he'd been issued. The usual ration of spirits was currently unavailable which had led to them being issued a small beer ration, and rumors abounded throughout the outpost on what had caused it-ranging from supply issues, stingy quartermasters to the Officers hoarding it.
That last one was probably the most believable. He snorted as he capped the clay jug and wiped his mouth on his hand-green eyes studying the desolate landscape Infront of him as smoke from the campfire wafted and danced on the wind. The yeoman couldn't remember for the life of him what the name of this planet was-some backwater mining world in the NDC that'd they taken to simply calling The Rock. A series of raids on nearby mines had various ores and rare earth elements stolen and supposedly sabotage had others shut down-though the scuttlebutt said that had to do with poor maintenance and old equipment. That didn't matter; foul play had been suspected, as it was about this time that an underproducing province had suddenly not only met but exceeded its production quotas. This in turn led them being hired by the local noble in charge of this territory, not that he cared; it was just another pissing match and the girl-the way she acted and dressed he refused to call her a woman-who hired them figured that given their reputation the Company'd make a good deterrent. This had the expected results of the convoys rather than the mines being targeted-though it wasn't enough to undercut production to the point intervention was necessary, it was still enough to be of concern to the point she'd hired a full legion, complete with mechanized units and orbital assets.
In other words, she was essentially throwing money at the problem at this point till it went away. Not that any of them minded-though her people would likely feel the strain for the next decade or so while she paid the bill.
Finishing up the rather unappetizing-looking slop that had been served by the cooks today he cleaned his mess kit, stored it, donned his helmet and grabbed his hammer. Striding up the dirt road towards the entrance of the mining camp. The two juniors on duty snapped to attention almost immediately and he waved them down. ("Anything to report?") He asked as he relieved the Senior in the armored security booth. ("Nah,") the man replied, his accent marking him as possibly being from closer to the cluster but who the hell knew? ("S' all qui'et.") Well, that was good. Taking his seat at the monitor station and checked over the displays-no pings on the motion, radar or sonar, no reports from the listening posts or patrols-and the auto turrets were in good order. Why a CQB specialist was manning this crap instead of a fieldsmith or a secondliner he'd never know. Watching as the two cleared several ore haulers to leave under escort by several of those new armored cars, he began the long, tedious job of sitting there waiting for something to happen.
Another Senior Yeoman entered with a greeting of ("Hey Jake.") Vance...one of their tankers-lean and lanky-his slight frame useful inside the confines of a vehicle. ("Figured you'd be headin' out with them.") Morris jerked a thumb towards the departing convoy-the dust they were kicking up impeding vision slightly. The tanker shook his head as he took a seat in a chair across from here. ("Naw-Jovial's getting fixed up after that last raid, and you wouldn't catch me in one of those combat cars.") He leaned back and grinned, ("Though from what I heard, we're supposed to be gettin a few myrmidons in soon.")
That was...good news to be honest; Myrmidons were a rare sight these days. ("Huh, ain't seen one of them in a while.") Morris replied, to which the other soldier nodded. ("Guess the Knight-Captain's getting tired of this shit, not that I blame him.") Vance produced a canteen from his belt and unscrewed the lid, ("Bastards pratcially slagged the haulers in that that last convoy-at this rate we're gonna have the Capitol out here.") Taking a swig, the man sighed.
("Let's hope it doesn't come to that.") Morris turned back to the various displays-hearing Vance do the same. Hopefully things would stay quiet, and the whole thing would be solved over a pint or three and they could all go home.
Yeah...right.
The beer was unusually weak today; Morris grimaced at the gritty, almost flavorless taste of the drink he'd been issued. The usual ration of spirits was currently unavailable which had led to them being issued a small beer ration, and rumors abounded throughout the outpost on what had caused it-ranging from supply issues, stingy quartermasters to the Officers hoarding it.
That last one was probably the most believable. He snorted as he capped the clay jug and wiped his mouth on his hand-green eyes studying the desolate landscape Infront of him as smoke from the campfire wafted and danced on the wind. The yeoman couldn't remember for the life of him what the name of this planet was-some backwater mining world in the NDC that'd they taken to simply calling The Rock. A series of raids on nearby mines had various ores and rare earth elements stolen and supposedly sabotage had others shut down-though the scuttlebutt said that had to do with poor maintenance and old equipment. That didn't matter; foul play had been suspected, as it was about this time that an underproducing province had suddenly not only met but exceeded its production quotas. This in turn led them being hired by the local noble in charge of this territory, not that he cared; it was just another pissing match and the girl-the way she acted and dressed he refused to call her a woman-who hired them figured that given their reputation the Company'd make a good deterrent. This had the expected results of the convoys rather than the mines being targeted-though it wasn't enough to undercut production to the point intervention was necessary, it was still enough to be of concern to the point she'd hired a full legion, complete with mechanized units and orbital assets.
In other words, she was essentially throwing money at the problem at this point till it went away. Not that any of them minded-though her people would likely feel the strain for the next decade or so while she paid the bill.
Finishing up the rather unappetizing-looking slop that had been served by the cooks today he cleaned his mess kit, stored it, donned his helmet and grabbed his hammer. Striding up the dirt road towards the entrance of the mining camp. The two juniors on duty snapped to attention almost immediately and he waved them down. ("Anything to report?") He asked as he relieved the Senior in the armored security booth. ("Nah,") the man replied, his accent marking him as possibly being from closer to the cluster but who the hell knew? ("S' all qui'et.") Well, that was good. Taking his seat at the monitor station and checked over the displays-no pings on the motion, radar or sonar, no reports from the listening posts or patrols-and the auto turrets were in good order. Why a CQB specialist was manning this crap instead of a fieldsmith or a secondliner he'd never know. Watching as the two cleared several ore haulers to leave under escort by several of those new armored cars, he began the long, tedious job of sitting there waiting for something to happen.
Another Senior Yeoman entered with a greeting of ("Hey Jake.") Vance...one of their tankers-lean and lanky-his slight frame useful inside the confines of a vehicle. ("Figured you'd be headin' out with them.") Morris jerked a thumb towards the departing convoy-the dust they were kicking up impeding vision slightly. The tanker shook his head as he took a seat in a chair across from here. ("Naw-Jovial's getting fixed up after that last raid, and you wouldn't catch me in one of those combat cars.") He leaned back and grinned, ("Though from what I heard, we're supposed to be gettin a few myrmidons in soon.")
That was...good news to be honest; Myrmidons were a rare sight these days. ("Huh, ain't seen one of them in a while.") Morris replied, to which the other soldier nodded. ("Guess the Knight-Captain's getting tired of this shit, not that I blame him.") Vance produced a canteen from his belt and unscrewed the lid, ("Bastards pratcially slagged the haulers in that that last convoy-at this rate we're gonna have the Capitol out here.") Taking a swig, the man sighed.
("Let's hope it doesn't come to that.") Morris turned back to the various displays-hearing Vance do the same. Hopefully things would stay quiet, and the whole thing would be solved over a pint or three and they could all go home.
Yeah...right.
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