[color=f7976a][b]A New World[/b][/color]

Claire took notes. It was a compulsive behavior, though not one which the various pshycs worried too much about. There were soldiers who licked grenades before throwing them, and soldiers who collected the teeth of their enemies, comparatively a paratrooper with a fondness for post it notes was considered 'minimally problematic'. The behavior was most intense when, as now, she was thrown into an unfamiliar situation. Most of the soldiers seemed to be taking it relatively well, which was amazing, when you considered what they were being told. 

The news that they would be multimillionaires if they survived didn't please her as much as it did the others. Claire had taken a grand total of six weeks leave in a nine year military career. She didn't like being away from the action, didn't like being paranoid in crowds, or assessing shopping malls for sniper positions when she was with her nieces. The idea that they were out among the stars to make war, a war that had no notional beginning or end, seemed right to her on a deep and visceral level.

Her attention was snapped out of notes by the accented voice of Steindottier. The woman had clearly been speaking to her and made a half hearted salute. Claire focused for a moment to draw the other womans words back into her mind.

"Flame throwers we have," she replied with a smile that she hoped was friendly. From her dossier Steindottier had trained with the British, with whom Claire had always had good relations.

"White phosphorus too, I don't suppose the Geneva conventions are much in effect up here, though I suppose that cuts both ways." She made a mental note to ask what intel the enemy might have on humans. Salutes might be a problem later on.

[color=f7976a][b]Phase Line[/b][/color]
The sounds of weapons fire echoed and snapped through the alien landscape. The familiar sounds were weirdly attenuated by the different mix of atmospheric gasses, it made judging the distance of a report uncertain. The weapons squad was strung out behind her, the troopers humping their heavy weapons through the pastel steam bath with good humor. It was hard for Claire to really connect with the reality of being here, it seemed so much like the fever dreams she had felt the first time her malaria med had run out in Kashmir. Their allies and their enemies were not anchored in her world view and as such she could draw no real connection to them.

Bullets snapped through the fungal foliage close at hand, snapping her from her reverie. Lifting her stabilized binoculars to her eyes she surveyed the battlefield once again and tried to remind herself that this was actually happening. It seemed like the engagement was going well, but then it always did right up untill the moment it dropped in the pot. Turning to her squad she started snapping out orders.

"Braithwaite, Kamal," she called to the machine gunners, her head set mike piping her words into the comm circuit.

"Shake it out fifty and secure the flank of Hedberg's flank! Keep small and hold your fire till I give the order." Twisting around she made a series of hand signals to the other members of the weapons squad. Deploying her second machine gun team and the pair of mortars behind a convenient hedge of the surprising dense fungus.

"Dagger One Zero, this is Dagger Four Zero," she reported, her voice sounded bored and disinterested as it always did in combat.

"Four is in position on the rise half a click north east of your position, we are holding fire till you call for us, over." It was always tempting to open fire at the first opportunity, but the reality is that the enemy was in uncertain strength, and keeping the heavy weapons concealed was the smart play.