NOTE: This story doesn't happen on RK. It probably doesn't fit in with FC's ideas about how their game setting runs. But I tried. And while this is an origin story about my toon, it's a story about my character as opposed to one of those "omfg im so awesum" things that crop up here.
This is the beginning of a story that eventually gets to RK, though. Hope you like it.
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They kept pushing on, clambering over the smoldering wrecks of command juggernauts and downed Wraiths. The interdiction circle kept pulling tighter in an effort to keep it from completely collapsing as the clanners pressed the attack, fighters on both sides cut down by gunfire in about even numbers.
Although to Captain Jared Deladier's dismay, there were a damn sight more clansmen than there were Omnis. His company had been in continuous combat for days, and casualties in the leadership and ranks had reduced his original two hundred troops to less than a fourth of that number. He tried to keep as much as the original structure as he could, though, which meant he had squad leaders in charge of most “platoons” and a fair number of fire team leaders in charge of squads.
What he was mainly running low on was sergeants and officers, who, due to budgetary constraints of Omni-TW, were the only ones wearing the nanodecks prevalent in the forces of Rubi-Ka. And since the division of SOL Banking funding the clanners on Torhen's World were not under any such budgetary constraints, that meant most of the firepower being hurled at the onrushing clanners was being stopped by nannite-induced reflect shields and attack blockers.
“All hands, all hands, close interdiction circle and board shuttles once they make touch down,” came the call over Deladier's, and the rest of the company's, radio. Deladier looked beyond his own small piece of the action to an outlying position trying to hold it's own. There were several such positions scattered around, but only one was manned by troops from his company. As had been explained to him, the interdiction circle was supposed to form up around shuttles bringing fresh troops, at which point they'd mount sorties to bring back the soldiers in stranded positions.
Instead they had gotten the call to pile into the ships and leave.
Deladier looked to his left, where a youth with a torn stomach tried to hold his guts in, and to his right where another kid way too young to be doing this had a white-knuckle grip on a gyro gun. At least he assumed it was a white-knuckle grip; you couldn't tell anything like that through the black full-body Omni Armed Forces uniforms.
"Omni-Tek protects," Deladier mumbled through gritted teeth.
He decided there would be no more waste.
*
Sergeant Katerina Berinda clutched her BO-18 rifle tightly, firing burst after burst from the hip on account of the distance between her and her target. She wasn't really a sergeant; she had been a corporal two days prior and promoted when the real sergeant died. Nevertheless, she was responsible for the lives of six other people.
There were three of them left.
The enemy was amongst them, a hulking brute she had at first confused for an atrox until she realized the proportions were all wrong and they were facing an immense solitus.
An immense solitus equipped with a nanodeck running all manner of attack blockers and reflect shields, and hopped up on so many stimulants that what little firepower did get through to him that wasn't stopped by his armor was ineffectual.
He was equipped with orbital fabrication armor and two immense, complicated clubs, the weapons rising and falling with a metallic clunk as a counterweight moved along the shaft.
The clanner simply bludgeoned each of them to death in turn, bellowing that he used to love Omni-Tek until they killed his family. Berinda and the soldiers he wasn't smacking around simply stood there and fired, no other course of action available to them. She wasn't very aware of herself; tears might have been rolling down her cheeks, or it could have been sweat. The whole world consisted of the rifle in her hands and the gigantic man she was shooting at. She did know for certain that the seventeen year old private at the clanner's feet was crying as he had the life beaten out of him, though.
"Hey *******," the words blasted tinny and crackling from a loud speaker. Berinda turned her head to see the source, a speaker attached to a Wraith jetbike. The rider wore the insignia of a captain, and she almost dropped her gun at the realization Deladier had come for them despite the orders to close the circle and leave.
The clanner looked and up growled at the speeding vehicle, it's engines emitting a whine as Deladier engaged the automatic cannons. Three booms erupted from the craft; the first shot took the clanner in the left shoulder, the heavy caliber anti-armor round punching through the nannite shields. It exploded out the back of the clanner in a spray of blood and bone as the second round slammed into his chest and the third turned his skull into a red mist.
The three soldiers left standing stared in shock before Berinda regained sense enough to give orders. Deladier set the bike down in their fighting position, a decently sized blast crater.
"Ibanez, help me drape Blakely over the back," she said, moving forward to help the soldier the clanner had been killing. Private Miguel Ibanez moved to help her as Volhoff ran up to the Wraith and hung off of it.
As the Wraith lifted free of the crater, Berinda fired off one last spiteful burst in the general direction of the enemy. Shots buffeted them, tearing off pieces of the vehicle they hoped were mostly cosmetic. They were trailing smoke and lilting to one side as Deladier slammed the bike down to a rough, sloppy landing next to the last few stragglers troops to board the shuttle.
Originally Posted by kesh
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