The Mission

by Mike Bowen

A green field, a small clearing next to a limestone ridge, sat a coal black smooth shape, vaguely rhomboid. Sitting on thick landing skids amidst the sharp stink of ozone and things charred, sensorpods briefly glittered and flashed from beneath thick armorglass. Small critters, forest denizens,ran in all directions from the new vistor that intruded in on their once serene home.

A liftgate drops from the rear of the vessel, digging into the soft loam. The tramp of boots onto the plasteel ramp shout the arrival of Morgans men onto the world that earlier had great promise as an easy moneymaker, a simple garrison mission for some Eldar that have long been a little too close to nature for their own good. Morgan really couldn't understand why they would have left normal "Eldar Civilization" to go for the Hunter/Gatherer route.They were not pirates, at least. There was still a chance at a good profit, though, with Imperials nearby there would be combat. Combat meant the Sub-Clause 23b of the Contract came into force. Active combat pay since the nanosecond his mothership detected the imperial forces on the planet, shooting.

He looked over at his pilot, going thru the final shutdown checklists. Checking his own status screen, he noticed the power rating.  " What's this with the Reflex Pool?  The power level looks on the low side- didn't the tiles convert all that re-entry heat into input for the banks?" "Nope" grunted Stoltk "looks like the Matrix in banks 2 and 3 got the power all right, but didn't store it- Don't worry, its not going to dump- just bad crystal. The 'puter noticed and shunted the power to the good Banks in the Pool. We still have enough power for a single launch back into orbit, or several suborbital hops."  The pilot grinned" Told you they were good for 2 more flights, so I was a little off  there, but you gotta admit, that was a hell of a good ride on reduced power" Morgan sighed " That _was_ a rush. Those Banks were getting old. They didn't blow- so the Spirits are with us. They can be regenerated, back home."

So much for profit on this mission so far.

Looking out thru the viewscreen, the first squad was checking out the local area, their findings sent back to the 'puter.  Nothing but small forest dwellers. Good, so far. Time to look like he's in charge- time to go before the men.

Walking down the access corridor, Morgan thoughts drifted. It had taken him a Standard  Year since his Father had sojourned  on his final trip of redemption, to get this far along. With backing of important personages, namely Lothar, one of the Honored Ancient Ones of the Hold, He was able to purchase a Captaincy from the Guild,  and sold enough Stock Shares in his planned Mercenary Company, "Morgans Maulers" to outfit several squads,  with Heavy equipment and transport.  Morgan had chosen contracts carefully, moderate danger with good payoffs.  The cost in lives had been slight, only a few deaths, and the rest of the casualties either in sickbay being regenerated, with only two hurt enough to be on permanent disability- pensioned off. He was getting to be known as a crafty leader running a lucky unit, a unit that cared for its own.  A good rep- A good name couldn't be bought, only earned. A good name was better, and worth more, than his weight in gemstones.

Entering the Hold, Morgan saw most of the Hold was empty, the Bikes and APCs already deployed into the clearing.  The muffled hiss of servos belied the presence of the WarBots cycling up into full activity, organic computers becoming aware of the
surroundings, and their duty. Timor working with his controller, feeding in programs to the 'Bots, even as they cycled thru their selftest routines.  Three of the 'Bots were of the same type,  The mantis-like forms strangely graceful as each tested its Close Assault routines, each in time to the other two, practicing its deadly dance. The fourth model was different, a slower fire support model, with an shoulder mount rapid fire cannon and a backpack mounted heavy laser, The golden light of the power field flickering as its synchronizer was being tested in the dim light of the hold.

"Looking good, Timor, They look ready to roll- they look ready for a good fight"

Timon just smiled, nodding his head- his pride in his work very evident. "I'll be out shortly- 10 minutes, tops"

Morgan stopped by the arms locker to pick up his gear before disembarking. Walking down the ramp, he felt a little light, almost bouncing. It would be awhile before he was used to this light gravity.  Looking about, he could see his men prepairing to move out. All knew the routine, all veterans. The APCs had moved into position to cover the approaches  to the clearing. The Bikers were checking their rides.  Skiff, in his Dreadnought suit, was on Patrol.

"Jotho! There you are- come over for a minute" said Morgan to the slightly built man, hunched over his sniper rifle, his men around him. Jotho wasn't like most other Halflings, as he really liked his job. He was a superb scout, and whined and complained less than some of his own Brotherhood did.  Like Nathat, even now even obvious from 30 meters away, complaining to one of the Bikers. Morgan took a deep breath. The Air was humid-probably what Nathat was telling Jorrs  about. Morgan grinned- he could just imagine on how Jorrs was probably wishing he was somewhere else.

"How was the drop, Jotho?" asked Morgan "This planet is similar to your home, isn't it?"

Jotho smiled, "That was one of Stoltks better efforts, well worth that keg you wagered him over it. This place is really close to home. A good place. Do you have those new Maps?"

Morgan handed over the datacrystal, and said, "take your squad towards that nearby village where we were suppose to land at. Recon only. Check it out and come back. We will be following shortly. Don't use the Comm unless necessary. If you run into any Eldar, watch it, they are probably twitchy towards any outsiders right now with all the Imperials running about murdering their kinfolk. Be careful. If you meet any, play this holovid. Should get you safe passage." And handed him the 3Dplayer. The smaller man took it and turned away.

The thin figure ran off towards his men, and the whole group of scouts moved out stealthily thru the trees and undergrowth towards the Village.

Loud thumping behind him heralded the entrance of the 'Bots into the clearing, followed closely by their master, the Engineer Timon, now outfitted in his Exosuit. Morgan repressed jealous thoughts, knowing someday he would be successful enough to own such a suit.

His heart still soared as his men cheered the 'Bots exiting the ship. Those 'Bots would give him an edge vs. The Imperials. With them, his group should outclass most Marine combat groups, easily. He was ready to dislike this Engineer at first, but unlike most he was quite friendly, and the two of them worked well together, especially since technically, the Guildmaster outranked him, but Timon never undercut his leadership in front of the men.

The pilot had exited the ship also, and remotely closed up the ship, and powered it down. In standby mode, it would be almost impossible for Imperial sensors to pick it up, and its dark shape blended in well with its surroundings.

So far, so good. His Men all looked to him. Jumping up ontop of the lead APC, Morgan addressed the group of men . His men. "OK Boys- Mount up and get ready to roll, We got SpaceMarine Ass to kick, and Eldar girls to chase around the town afterwards! Stoltk told me that he's going to share those Kegs o'mine he won from me with you all at the Victory Party BBQ!
Grilled Steaks as thick as your arm!! Onward!" and the roaring of the bikes and APCs were drowned out by the cheering.

** Mike**