Post by shadowknight on Jun 23, 2014 0:43:00 GMT
She flashed a wide, cheery smile at the receptionist as she gently slid him her press badge.
"Melissa Brewster." The receptionist confirmed in a dull monotone voice as he passed the scanner over the badge."Interview booked with TB-1227, is that correct?"
"Yes." she said, the smile dropping slightly as she took her badge back.
"Please precede to the security checkpoint. following that you are asked to enter decontamination before continuing onto level C-12. TB-1227 resides in ISO-Room 4B at the end of the hall."
Melissa Brewster followed the directions to the letter. As she approached the security checkpoint, she was struck with a pang of sadness. This was a rare opportunity for an up and coming reporter, a rare look into the lives of the Tank-Born. She was the first reporter since the war to have the chance to speak with one in person, the story could make her career.....and yet she felt..bad. Almost as if she were exploiting them for her own personal gain rather than to actually call attention to their plight.
-
The checkpoint came and went, she had been scanned for any contraband and other unauthorized materials. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, she headed to decontamination. Standing perfectly still, a bright wall of what she perceived as soft blue light passed over her, she could feel the warmth of it passing over her near flawless skin. Soon, the room and she were completely sterilized and she continued down the bleached white hall into a waiting gravity-lift. As she stood waiting, she looked at her reflection in the mirrored walls, studying the tall and slim twenty three year old brunet that looked back at her. She adjusted her shoulder length hair, making it uniform again. Her cool blue eyes looked her self over, making sure she was presentable, once satisfied in her appearance, she went over the interview to come in her head. playing out the countless ways she could screw up......the doors parted. It didn't take her long to reach ISO-Room 4B. She hesitated as she reached forward, nervousness flooding her system only to be squashed by the reporter in her. She punched the button on the door panel, the light flickered green and with a low hiss, the door slid open.
-
Sitting quietly in on a chair in the corner was TB-1227. His old, tired eyes lifted from the book he was reading, a warm smile crossed his wizened face as he beckoned for her to enter. "Please, do come in would you."
Melissa quickly stepped inside, taking a seat in the chair opposite the old man. Slowly he set his book to the side and extended a shaky had towards her which she took and shook carefully. "Greeting, " she said in a perky voice, "I'm Melissa Brewster, a junior reporter with the Alliance Historical Journalism Department. I, umm.....do you have an actual name....or should I....."
The old man chuckled at her slight fumble, " My squad called me Hammer," he leaned a little closer and whispered playfully, "short for Jackhammer."
"Oh, and how did that name come about?"
"Because when I decided to try and ride one of those antiques like a pogo-stick," he laughs warmly "it didn't go so well."
She nodded, quickly jotting something down in her data-pad, then she pulled out a voice recorder and started it. "Ok, MR. Hammer,"
"Just Hammer, please."
"Right, Hammer. I'm here to talk to you about the Cluster War and your service and role during those long and violent years."
"By all means, its about time the truth was told." He started, leaning back in his seat, his eyes seemed to drift off to a place very very far away.....he began to speak.
"Melissa Brewster." The receptionist confirmed in a dull monotone voice as he passed the scanner over the badge."Interview booked with TB-1227, is that correct?"
"Yes." she said, the smile dropping slightly as she took her badge back.
"Please precede to the security checkpoint. following that you are asked to enter decontamination before continuing onto level C-12. TB-1227 resides in ISO-Room 4B at the end of the hall."
Melissa Brewster followed the directions to the letter. As she approached the security checkpoint, she was struck with a pang of sadness. This was a rare opportunity for an up and coming reporter, a rare look into the lives of the Tank-Born. She was the first reporter since the war to have the chance to speak with one in person, the story could make her career.....and yet she felt..bad. Almost as if she were exploiting them for her own personal gain rather than to actually call attention to their plight.
-
The checkpoint came and went, she had been scanned for any contraband and other unauthorized materials. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, she headed to decontamination. Standing perfectly still, a bright wall of what she perceived as soft blue light passed over her, she could feel the warmth of it passing over her near flawless skin. Soon, the room and she were completely sterilized and she continued down the bleached white hall into a waiting gravity-lift. As she stood waiting, she looked at her reflection in the mirrored walls, studying the tall and slim twenty three year old brunet that looked back at her. She adjusted her shoulder length hair, making it uniform again. Her cool blue eyes looked her self over, making sure she was presentable, once satisfied in her appearance, she went over the interview to come in her head. playing out the countless ways she could screw up......the doors parted. It didn't take her long to reach ISO-Room 4B. She hesitated as she reached forward, nervousness flooding her system only to be squashed by the reporter in her. She punched the button on the door panel, the light flickered green and with a low hiss, the door slid open.
-
Sitting quietly in on a chair in the corner was TB-1227. His old, tired eyes lifted from the book he was reading, a warm smile crossed his wizened face as he beckoned for her to enter. "Please, do come in would you."
Melissa quickly stepped inside, taking a seat in the chair opposite the old man. Slowly he set his book to the side and extended a shaky had towards her which she took and shook carefully. "Greeting, " she said in a perky voice, "I'm Melissa Brewster, a junior reporter with the Alliance Historical Journalism Department. I, umm.....do you have an actual name....or should I....."
The old man chuckled at her slight fumble, " My squad called me Hammer," he leaned a little closer and whispered playfully, "short for Jackhammer."
"Oh, and how did that name come about?"
"Because when I decided to try and ride one of those antiques like a pogo-stick," he laughs warmly "it didn't go so well."
She nodded, quickly jotting something down in her data-pad, then she pulled out a voice recorder and started it. "Ok, MR. Hammer,"
"Just Hammer, please."
"Right, Hammer. I'm here to talk to you about the Cluster War and your service and role during those long and violent years."
"By all means, its about time the truth was told." He started, leaning back in his seat, his eyes seemed to drift off to a place very very far away.....he began to speak.
.........................................................................................................
Date: August 12, 4794
Cluster: Delta 7B
Planet: Varesh Minor
Operation: Black Sand
A violet sun cast its light onto the dark planet, its black desert landscape stood seemingly undisturbed......it was almost tranquil. This, like all things, didn't last. Its unknown who fired first, but the silence of the desert was shattered the air was filled with fire. Green streams of energy ripped up from hidden anti-air batteries, streaks of red death rained down in response. The ground rocked as the rain fell for hours on end. When the last red blast fell, the setting sun reflected off of fresh black glass. With the darkness can the low hum of landing craft, troops filed out in formations drilled into them since the day they could move. Identical armor with identical helmets covering the faces of men and women who, while varied, were all the same..........They are the Tank Born, and of the 5,000,000 infantry that are deployed, only twenty seven of them will see the violet sunrise......and only two of those are left walking. Hammer stands in the loading bay with his squad, there backs against the wall, taking a head count. It became something of a sick game for them. Taking bets on how many standard infantry would return from an operation, closest number wins. Hammer guessed fifteen and collected his winnings, a small, chewy substance with a unique flavor to it. It took years for him to finally learn what this smuggled substance was.....
'gum' he huffed as he popped the small round ball into his mouth 'not the most creative name.' Footsteps to his right, his jaw stopped and he snapped to attention. Their squad leader,TB-113 (he preferred his designation to a name) was a mean bastard, to make things worse.....he had Hammer's face. Thankfully the scars on that face allowed them to be told apart.
"Alright, listen up, orders just came down the wire. F.O.B Alpha is currently under siege and have requested support. We drop in ten, get you shit together and head to the drop bay." as he marched off he stopped for a moment and glanced over his shoulder. "and spit that gum out before I knock your teeth in Hammer."
Ten minutes later they were in full armor, armed with the deadliest killing implements developed to that date. They are the Tactical Reconnaissance and Termination units, also known as T-R.A.Ts.The infantry calls them Coffin Jockeys......they're not far off. As Hammer stepped into his drop pod he took a deep breath. The T-R.A.Ts are some of the most elite special forces in the Alliance......but all that training is useless if they never reach the ground.......and many of them never do. He exhaled, the light turned green...........
===========
Location: 3 Klicks south of F.O.B Alpha
Hammer bit down hard on his mouth guard as the drop pod slammed hard into the blackened sandy surface, he was already moving, his muscle memory acting before his mind could process his actions. In moments he was with his team as they maneuvered swiftly towards their destination. They were in a desert canyon, the black walls were scarred from weapons fire, burnt out husks of armored vehicles for both sides sat in heaps. A voice crackled in Hammer's ear, "Where are the bodies." Hammer was thinking the same thing. All around them was carnage, blood stains on the ruined tanks......but not a body one.
"Cut the Chatter!" the Squad leader barked over the suit com. They fell silent, time stretched on for what felt like forever as they traveled along the Canyon, the silence broken only by the thump of distant artillery fire; however, the return fire was getting louder. They exited the canyon, crouching low and moving along the rocks, Just ahead was a sudden drop off.
"Activate stealth systems, switch to visor mode 12," There were several barely audible clicks as the six of them activated their cloaking devises. They vanished, light bending around them, hiding their movements from even the most alert sentries and sensitive detection equipment. Unseen, they moved to the edge of the cliff and looked over there target. A large alien compound, with heavy artillery emplacements pumping round after round into the distance......round after round into F.O.B Alpha. In between outgoing shots, bright explosions would out shine the sun, erupting in mid air against an invisible shield wall.
"Alright T-Rats, listen up;We have two primary objectives. One: Disable the base deflector shields and Sabotage their communications, munition stores, and proximity detection equipment." the Squad leader said in a gruff, unquestioning tone, "Two: intel reports that an high-ranking enemy commander was performing an inspection of the compound when our invasion prevented him from leaving." he paused a moment, "The mans a defector, an alien loving bastard who sold out his own kind. Officially he is to be taken alive to face public execution;however, the Brass who are overseeing this little campaign would rather him......removed sooner rather than later." "We're dividing into two teams. Hammer your tasked with objective one, take Blair and Scorch. Once your objective is complete, your team is to head to the rendezvous point and hold your position. Once we're done, we will meet you there and call for extraction."
With that they were off, rapidly repelling down the cliff face. Hitting the ground smooth and fast, they broke up into their teams and headed off towards opposite ends of the compound. "Alright boys," Hammer said over his short range squad com. "Lets see if we can make these ugly bastards bleed."
========================
Cluster: Delta 7B
Planet: Varesh Minor
Operation: Black Sand
A violet sun cast its light onto the dark planet, its black desert landscape stood seemingly undisturbed......it was almost tranquil. This, like all things, didn't last. Its unknown who fired first, but the silence of the desert was shattered the air was filled with fire. Green streams of energy ripped up from hidden anti-air batteries, streaks of red death rained down in response. The ground rocked as the rain fell for hours on end. When the last red blast fell, the setting sun reflected off of fresh black glass. With the darkness can the low hum of landing craft, troops filed out in formations drilled into them since the day they could move. Identical armor with identical helmets covering the faces of men and women who, while varied, were all the same..........They are the Tank Born, and of the 5,000,000 infantry that are deployed, only twenty seven of them will see the violet sunrise......and only two of those are left walking. Hammer stands in the loading bay with his squad, there backs against the wall, taking a head count. It became something of a sick game for them. Taking bets on how many standard infantry would return from an operation, closest number wins. Hammer guessed fifteen and collected his winnings, a small, chewy substance with a unique flavor to it. It took years for him to finally learn what this smuggled substance was.....
'gum' he huffed as he popped the small round ball into his mouth 'not the most creative name.' Footsteps to his right, his jaw stopped and he snapped to attention. Their squad leader,TB-113 (he preferred his designation to a name) was a mean bastard, to make things worse.....he had Hammer's face. Thankfully the scars on that face allowed them to be told apart.
"Alright, listen up, orders just came down the wire. F.O.B Alpha is currently under siege and have requested support. We drop in ten, get you shit together and head to the drop bay." as he marched off he stopped for a moment and glanced over his shoulder. "and spit that gum out before I knock your teeth in Hammer."
Ten minutes later they were in full armor, armed with the deadliest killing implements developed to that date. They are the Tactical Reconnaissance and Termination units, also known as T-R.A.Ts.The infantry calls them Coffin Jockeys......they're not far off. As Hammer stepped into his drop pod he took a deep breath. The T-R.A.Ts are some of the most elite special forces in the Alliance......but all that training is useless if they never reach the ground.......and many of them never do. He exhaled, the light turned green...........
===========
Location: 3 Klicks south of F.O.B Alpha
Hammer bit down hard on his mouth guard as the drop pod slammed hard into the blackened sandy surface, he was already moving, his muscle memory acting before his mind could process his actions. In moments he was with his team as they maneuvered swiftly towards their destination. They were in a desert canyon, the black walls were scarred from weapons fire, burnt out husks of armored vehicles for both sides sat in heaps. A voice crackled in Hammer's ear, "Where are the bodies." Hammer was thinking the same thing. All around them was carnage, blood stains on the ruined tanks......but not a body one.
"Cut the Chatter!" the Squad leader barked over the suit com. They fell silent, time stretched on for what felt like forever as they traveled along the Canyon, the silence broken only by the thump of distant artillery fire; however, the return fire was getting louder. They exited the canyon, crouching low and moving along the rocks, Just ahead was a sudden drop off.
"Activate stealth systems, switch to visor mode 12," There were several barely audible clicks as the six of them activated their cloaking devises. They vanished, light bending around them, hiding their movements from even the most alert sentries and sensitive detection equipment. Unseen, they moved to the edge of the cliff and looked over there target. A large alien compound, with heavy artillery emplacements pumping round after round into the distance......round after round into F.O.B Alpha. In between outgoing shots, bright explosions would out shine the sun, erupting in mid air against an invisible shield wall.
"Alright T-Rats, listen up;We have two primary objectives. One: Disable the base deflector shields and Sabotage their communications, munition stores, and proximity detection equipment." the Squad leader said in a gruff, unquestioning tone, "Two: intel reports that an high-ranking enemy commander was performing an inspection of the compound when our invasion prevented him from leaving." he paused a moment, "The mans a defector, an alien loving bastard who sold out his own kind. Officially he is to be taken alive to face public execution;however, the Brass who are overseeing this little campaign would rather him......removed sooner rather than later." "We're dividing into two teams. Hammer your tasked with objective one, take Blair and Scorch. Once your objective is complete, your team is to head to the rendezvous point and hold your position. Once we're done, we will meet you there and call for extraction."
With that they were off, rapidly repelling down the cliff face. Hitting the ground smooth and fast, they broke up into their teams and headed off towards opposite ends of the compound. "Alright boys," Hammer said over his short range squad com. "Lets see if we can make these ugly bastards bleed."
========================
