The Empire
Quellor Sector, Cato Neimodia System, Cato Neimodia, Cato's Cradle
Primary Objective: Reduce the Bridge City to a burning rubble.
Secondary Objective: Provide armored support to friendly elements.
Friendlies: The Empire | N/A | Open
Hostiles: Local Planetary Defense Force | Galactic Alliance | N/A | Open for tags.
Directly Engaging: N/A
Gear: In Bio
War had finally caught up to Cato Neimodia, and it could not escape its desecrating touch.
Columns of black, oily smoke blotted the virgin skies above; the scorching flames left in the wake of a white phosphorus barrage began to rancorously ravage the gilded, marvelous architecture of the bridge city. Several buildings that reached and pierced the very heavens were already reduced to a husk of their former selves, covered in soot as their remains pointed accusatorially at the clouds, like the boney fingers of the dead.
The flaring and consuming fires shone off the silver badge of the young Tank Commander’s black beret as he took in the destruction they were responsible for. Unhurried, his gaze shifted from one corner of the street to the other; from his Cataphract’s Commander’s Hatch he watched impassively as the friendly mechanized infantry elements walked past his tank in orderly single columns. They began their movement to the next city block to scour.
His young but distinct features remained indifferent as he looked, turned out from his hatch, but on the inside, seeds of doubt began to bear fruit in his mind. He couldn't help but remember the letter he wrote to his mother back home.
Each day they fought, took them deeper into the abyss. Each word he wrote, felt like it was his last. Each breath he drew, he felt victory in it; and defeat, when he woke in hell, every morning. He found it hard to not ask himself the impossible question.
Why?
Why do we slaughter?
Why do we suffer?
For peace?
It was only after a nudge to his shoulder could he shift his mind away from such dark thoughts and questions he found no answers to; Stege, the resident giant and Loader of their tank crew, a brother in arms, stood turned out from the hatch beside him, fumbling with a cigarra packet in his hands.
”Reminded you of Drastarra?” he offered Hall a cigarra.
”Yeah…” Hall answered dryly with a heavy sigh. He accepted his kind gesture, as he spared him a nod of his head as a sign of his gratitude. Absent-mindedly he placed its butt between his lips as he slipped a hand down to one of his pockets, searching for his lighter.
The crisp metallic clatter of a zippo lighter to his left had him cease his efforts.
”I can’t wait to go back home,” Stege casually remarked as he lit the young Tank Commander’s cigarra, covering its tip from the mild breeze with the palm of his hand.
”Yeah…” Hall idly responded while he leaned slightly towards Stege, to make it easier for the man to light his cigarra.
”I don’t know if I have a home left to go back to.” he said troubledly after a hefty heave of smoke from his cigarra as he pulled back.
”It’s been a month since the last time I got a response to my letters, from back home.” he remarked after billowing smoke from his lips, turning his head to the right to avoid blowing the smoke towards his comrade’s direction.
The Loader kept his silence for a moment after he lit his smoke, with only the crackling of flames, the occasional barks of order from somewhere and the inaudible chatter of the men clad in white armor as they marched past their tank cut the silence that befell them both.
”Try not to dwell on it too much, man.” he finally said after a moment, his words followed after a drag of smoke from his cigarra.
”You know comms have been karked up for a while. Maybe they’ve replied but-”
”Yeah ,yeah, I know. Maybe…” he said while he pinched the bridge of his nose as if to stave off a headache, as he rested the palm of his other hand flat on the roof of the tank, the cigarra tucked between between his first knuckles; the black leather of his gloves strained and stretched.
”Nothing I can do but to hope for the best, right?” he voiced a rhetorical question at him as he drew his hand from the bridge of his nose, and pulled the cigarra to his lips. From his peripheral Hall saw the Loader give him a nod of his head in silence, his features suggesting mild amounts of concern.
Age of doubt and uncertainty dawned upon them all. The crackle of the headset he wore under his beret only reinforced that fact.
Whose turn was it to die, this time?
The Tank Commander swiftly reached for the right ear cup of his headset with his hand and remained motionless as he listened to the voice on the other side. It was their Platoon Commander, Lieutenant Löwe.
”332, confirming our readiness,” Hall spoke with a stern tone of voice.
”Orders received and understood. Moving out,” the young man spoke with a curt nod of his head. The transmission concluded as fast as it occurred thereafter.
”That’s our cue,” he said to Stege as he flicked the half-smoked cigarra onto the street.
” Let’s get buttoned up.” Hall said as he reached for his hatch. The two young men disappeared into the tank two seconds later.
The hatches shut with a metallic clang after them.
”Litzke,” he spoke to their Gunner, whose station was just right beneath and forthward from his own. He gently shook him from the shoulder as he spoke.
”Wake Kale up,” he ordered. With a groggy yet confirming grunt, the young man, no older than nineteen, reached for a broom and leaned down, poking the Driver with it.
” Yeah, yeah I don’t want to hear it,” he brushed off Kale’s groggy growls and mutters filled with protest.
”We got work to do. Start her up,” he said as he flicked the switches on the panel before him, bringing the screens and systems of his station online.
”Where to?” Kale asked as the mighty engines of the Cataphract first hummed, whined at a high pitch, and finally growled and roared to life.
”We are to link up and provide armored support to our mechanized infantry element just three blocks from here,” he quickly explained.
”Stege, HEAT.” He ordered a heartbeat later.
”Loader ready, HEAT loaded!” he shouted both his readiness and carried out his commander, after a series of metallic clangs resounding from the gun breech shutting close after feeding it a HEAT shell.
”Gunner ready, HEAT, indexed!” Litzke shouted over the intercom, confirming his readiness for what was to come in their near future.
”Driver, move us out,”
”Confirmed!"
The steel beast gently lurched forward at the step onto its gas pedal shortly afterwards; the sharp howl of her engines that echoed amongst the burning structures and smoldering ruins, and the loud clatter and clangor of her wide tracks heralded its oncoming arrival.
Whether it was going to be them or the enemy this time, they would soon find out, no matter if they wanted to find out,
or not.