He walked through the hangar bays of his dropship, designated for military personnel only. He stepped out from behind a pile of crates, and saw headlights.
Jean slammed into him, knocking him several feet across the floor. The forklift that had come inches from killing him hovered on, still going at a reckless speed. David and Jean stood, and dusted themselves off.
"Thanks," David muttered.
"Don't mention it. Besides, what would we do without our squad leader?" A slight smile spread across David's face as he regained his posture and folded his arms. He needed to be more careful, especially with everyone moving about as frantically as they were. Such carelessness was not a good thing for a leader to have.
David stared off into space, a concerned look upon him.
"Something wrong, sir?"
"I just wonder how long the clanners have known of our location. If yesterday was the first glimpse of us they got, we should be okay. Any longer than that� who knows how close their Armada is to us by now."
"Well now that they know about us, how long can we run from them?"
David looked down at the cold floor, where the paint had been scraped to hell from moving crates too quickly. Without looking up, he replied "we can't. We can't run at all. We have to face them now."
"You mean we're going to take a few dozen dropships with half a billion civilians and take on an Armada that is armed to the teeth and outnumbers us by over five to one?"
"I'm not sure what the Admiral's plans are, but yeah, something like that."
Jean sighed, and placed a hand on her forehead.
"I am getting so goddamned sick of this war." Jean walked off in heavy steps, and David did nothing to stop her. There was nothing he could do or say, except to assure her of the Admiral's tactical wisdom and experience. David couldn't quite agree with Jean's analysis, as much as he felt like he should.
He didn't hate the war. It had become his life. He tried imagining a world of peace among undivided lands, but couldn't. War was normal life now, and being sick of it wouldn't do anything. He knew he'd be dead in hours, days, weeks, perhaps months if he was lucky, and he accepted it perfectly.
David unfolded his arms, exhaled, and proceeded across the room with a greater sense of care about him. He had to go brief the rest of the 113th division, as well as prepare himself. As he walked across hangars and storage hulls towards their new onboard bunker, he reopened the link from his implant to his terminal.
A welcoming screen flashed up on his optical implants, and David navigated through the interface to his email. Two new messages appeared, one being the message sent through to everyone notifying them of the departure, the other his briefings for him and his team. He opened the second letter, and read it to himself while keeping an eye out for any other hazards around him.
Officer Jackson, David S.
113th Division
2157 SAMFT (Standard Alliance Military Force Time)
STATUS UPDATE: Mars Departure
This message is to inform you of event outlines in the near future as well as your new responsibilities following departure from Mars. At 2400 SAMFT all ships will take off from Mars' surface and rendezvous at the location given in attachment A-1. The civilian ships (Atlas and Fehrdam classes) will be evacuated at best speed towards Jupiter, and remain in orbit until future notice. The military ships (Titan, Thanatos, and Marathon classes) will be making a TranSpace jump straight into hell: Terrana 6. We will be staging a full ground assault, and intend to end the war in one sitting. Further information on this mission will be given when a plan is formulated.
Here are your current responsibilities: The 113th division will be flying an escort operation in the M-13's provided by the Alliance. We do not yet have any confirmation of any threats present, but at this point, the Alliance cannot afford any mistakes.
Further updates will be sent at 2350 SAMFT.
David closed the terminal connection, and walked faster to his bunker.
