Tags:
WISCOM
Eleena Salwa
Rath Nihro
Darth Imperius
Gear:
KC-47 Hybrid Strike Rifle,
KC-77N Hybrid Pistol,
Sk-AR Mk.1 Armor
The thump of the first two charges detonating was enough to shake the leaves from the trees, setting what few birds remained to squawking and scattering. Cries of alarm and annoyance mingled, a string of curses bringing a slight smile to Arturo's face. For
dead people, those soldiers sure seemed to talk a lot. When the shooting started, their complaints were forced to the back of his mind. Peeking over the top of the fallen tree he sheltered behind, the contractor added his fire to the rest, letting loose with short, accurate bursts from his rifle. Even when loaded with simulation rounds, the weapon seemed to jump in his hands, press back into his shoulder as if it had a mind of it's own. Aiming at the lead elements of the main force before they could think to scatter, he fired, and kept firing until his magazine ran dry.
Shrinking back into cover, he reloaded, nearly missing the chime as someone requested a link with him. Sim rounds pecked at the fallen tree, ricocheted off as he accepted the connection.
"Arturo here." He said, popping up and firing as he talked.
"Arturo! How's it going." A familiar voice said, the tone clear and jovial in his ear. It was almost as if he wasn't in the middle of a firefight.
"Mayrbek. It's going swimmingly. You?" Arturo envision his fellow contractor shrugging.
"It's going. You see that gunship pass by?"
Arturo racked his brains. Caught up in the moment, he didn't really want to delve into his past.
"Think so. Why?"
"Oh, y'know, just asking. Was wondering if you got hit too, but I guess not."
"You got hit?" There was a pause as the man next to him took a round to the helmet. Arturo tried to identify his killer and failed.
"How bad?"
"Not too bad. Between the gas and the rotary cannons, we lost... I don't know how many we lost, but the right flank caught the worst of it. We've had to reinforce them with men from the center."
Arturo could only nod at that. He couldn't really recall when exactly the gunship had passed them by -or whether it had fired at them- but it must have been quite recently. Just after the shooting had started, maybe. He nodded again, shifting position, the crackle of return fire growing by the minute.
"Right. That all or did you have something else you needed to tell me?" He asked, taking a knee beside Nara as the twi'lek continued to pick off enemies with her sniper.
"They've dropped in troops behind you. Not many, but enough to make your coming back problematic. Good news is their arrival and the gunship's visit woke everyone up. We're putting together a welcoming committee as we speak." Arturo smiled, the concussive thump of two more charges making the mercenary duck instinctively. Salt and Pepp had sure done a good job of wiring the place up. He made a note to commend them later,
if they made it back.
"And the bad news?"
"The bad news? Oh, right. Bad news is you're probably gonna die on that side of the river and there ain't much we can do about it." He sounded apologetic. As if he was to blame for putting the idea in Arturo's head. It was funny, really. Arturo swore he'd buy the guy a beer sometime.
"Thanks for the show of support." He replied, struggling to keep the amusement from his voice.
"See you soon, maybe."
Dropping the call, he cast a quick glance down his line. He couldn't make out the entirety of the six squads he'd led across, but he was surprised to find at least four of them still standing. Roughly. Glancing through the trees, he tried to gauge the enemy's response, too. The initial hit had been enough to stop the main force dead. A score of them had fallen victim to the charges and the crossfire. Now, however, they were beginning to get the upper hand. More and more ultranauts had taken to shooting back, and the numbers were beginning to tell. Arturo figured the time had come. He sent out the signal to retreat.
"All right, time to go, people!" He all but shouted over his force's closed channel. He tapped Nara on the shoulder as he made to stand.
"Up and at 'em, kid." To his immediate right, another one of his men went down, a half-dozen sim-rounds hitting him square in the chest. Arturo didn't have the time to see to him, mourn his loss. All along the line, his squads had begun to fall back, every man and woman sticking to their training as best they could.
Run, turn and shoot, Arturo reminded himself as he ran.
Run, turn and shoot.
On the fifth time doing this, he was almost surprised when two sim-rounds struck him simultaneously in the back of his left leg, sending him sprawling in the mud.