[b]Eastern Russia/Western Siberian Republic[/b]

The roar of the tank engine churning behind Li Tsung echoed in the iron can as it sped along through the muddy, spring field. The guttural growl rattling through the shell. His seat vibrated underneath him, tuned to the rotation of the engine block. Distant and soft, the clattering of the dozens of shells just behind his seat shook and rattled in their containment. Alongside the seat the dials and gauges rattled back and forth in the tank's whole body shaking. And outside through the mud and dust foamed porthole the Russian countryside sped towards them.

The young driver felt a rising sense of dread as his machine barreled through the countryside. He was held in the tensity of the moment. The realization, the confirmation he was to arrive to the battlefield. He had heard stories of the Revolution, the liberation of Taiwan. They had seemed so distant, even while in training. And even the campaign in Tibet had seemed to make joke of war, a couple handful of short weeks of Chinese boots tromping over Tibetan steppe and raising flags.

He had been afraid of going into the field. There was a noxious fearful association. Where at any moment the seat on which you sit could erupt like a flower in a spray of fire and gunpowder; evidenced by the cache of ammo just at his back. But for the two years of his service, he was kept back far enough that the probability had been slim. Up until the end he hadn't expected to see combat.

And here he was, driving them right to the black billowing clouds. As hazy as they were through the clouded bullet-proof glass the were deeper and darker than anything he had seen. A herald and signal to the times to come.

His face felt pale, weak. Stomach churned. He couldn't tell if it was from the butterflies in his stomach, or the noxious fumes irregularly kicked back into the tank from the motor; somewhere there was a minor exhaust leak. Or perhaps it was both that made him want to vomit.

He held back his tongue. His eyes shutting tight as he breathed deep to stabilize his composure. The rocking of the road wasn't helping. Uneasily he stole a view outside the side-port. Alongside him a driving force of armor flew across the field like an arrow to the sky. The moment was very much real.

Tsung turned from the window. Exhaling deep. He felt cold.

The chair under him rattled and rumbled. An uncomfortable numbing sensation was beginning to wear over his ass. His back felt bumped against the chair as the tank began to roll over rougher terrain. He felt the clay in his stomach stiffen, and he dared to lean over to look out the front porthole. Odd dark shapes lay mis matched in the way. He held his breath, biting on the tip of his tongue, afraid to know what they were.

“They're just trees!” a voice shouted in his ears. A heavy hand propped itself against his shoulder and Tsung jumped, shocked. Stiffly he turned. Hui's face was stuffed up against his ear. He could smell his sour breath as he breathed, he was so close.

“What?” Tsung shouted, over the cacophony in the cabin.

“Trees!” Hui shouted back, “My guess is someone dropped them on the road that was supposed to be here, hoping to stop trucks! Not us!”

The consolation may have been minor, but it didn't make him feel any better as they climbed and dropped over the mismatched stacks of timbers.

“Why so many!?” Tsung called back.

“Fuck if I care to know!” Hui yelled, pushing himself away and back to his part of the tank.

Tsung turned to watch as he carefully crawled over the magazine of rounds and into his chair opposite of Lin. Built tight into the side of the turret where he rested was a large box of dials and knobs. Tsung recognized the deformed gray block as the barrel's ranging computer. The driver didn't claim to be an expert at it, and with its angle and position it was too hard to read the dials and gauges as they were. Hui would be using it blind no doubt, relying on its feel to put the numbers in right for his partner to manage.

Perched over top the gun, almost straddling it like a horse was their Sun. His legs and tail of his officer's coat just visible under the pipes and claustrophobic mess of a turret hull. And given he was hardly sitting in his seat, Tsung figured he was standing outside of the hatch.

The driver's hatch was still firmly shut.

The rocking of bobbing felt as they drove on softened and petered out. The road opened up, and through the hazy view hole the debri that had littered the road had been cleared, and darkened figures stood along the edge as the armor passed. The last sticks crunched under the treads, and smooth driving returned. In the relative sense. Growling down the rough Siberian road they continued, passing the rear-most line of the current front.

[b]Northern Russia[/b]

“I can't say I'm happy it took so long!” the soldier laughed loudly over the mechanical ambiance of several hundred small engines running at once. The combined storm was about one would expect from a handful of Tei Gui. But the size that the combined buggies and six-wheeled personal vehicles had was a much more depressing sight. Most of the vehicles no larger than a small car on the street of Beijing, and far uglier.

“But I can't blame you either.” the soldier snickered as he pulled himself to the caged roof of a buggy. On his back rested a pair of large aluminum tanks, painted in drab white-grey. A white-cloth wrapped hose ran from a valve that bled the two tanks together at the bottom, to the stock of a gun strapped to the side.

The owner was a large man, sturdy in his build. And his face none the prettier. He mean over-bite and flattened face could let any man pass him off as being a pit-bull. He was deeply Mongolian in this respect, and his heavy high-brow complimented his barbarian features like the first Neanderthal visitor to the Asiatic continent.

He was brave to disregard the cold. The scarf that would otherwise shield his face hung around his neck in a dense wrapped clump of cloth. So his twisted smile could be shone to the cold sun. “But this will be for sure a wild ride.”

“It will, Tsien Huang.” chipped Yun-Qi, standing alongside buggy the man had climbed on top of. It wasn't a vehicle of Chinese design, and it showed. It was Russian, which shown even harder. Its spartan frame lacked such luxuries as a solid chassis. Much of it was framed with crisscrossed bars of steel and iron, welded unceremoniously to the conduit and pipe that had been hammered to build the shape. The only thing that could be counted as a luxury was the wind-shield, was no doubt the minimum in terms of bullet-proof quality.

Even the engine wasn't covered, and the heat it produced rolled off the top in shimmering bands of quick-silver or smokey-silver tongues of gray smoke and steam. It was probably the warmest thing on the vehicle, making the driver's seat it sat behind the best seating on the buggy. “I regret us having to camp out her longer than need be, but Hue Wen obviously had other ideas.” Yun-qi added with a reserved tone.

“Permission to speak a private opinion?” Huang grumbled as he found a nested little copula on the top of the buggy. It had obviously been added as an after-thought between the dirty factory floor the Siberians pushed this out of and when they got it. A wooden chair and beaten bi-pod marked where a gun would be. The soldier went about with moving the tank of the flame-thrower into the nest and making himself at home.

“Is it going to get my command revoked?” Yun-qi asked bitterly.

“Only if you tell someone higher up yourself.” Huang smirked. His smile was long and impish.

“Very well.” the colonel said reservedly.

“Fuck the general!” Huang laughed, “We should have just driven ourselves into that Republic years ago and burned it out while it was just a small tumor. Fucked it like the cheap whore it is.

“Not let it fester like an open wound. All this waiting around is shit.”

“Thank you for your concern.” Yun-qi moaned with a deep breath.

“So, sir.” Huang said, sitting himself in his new position. The flamethrower mounted on the roof, “Any special words when we move?”

“No, not until we get to where we need to go.” said Yun-qi.

“Which'd be?”

“It's on a need to know basis. You'll need to know when we get there.”

“Surprises!” Huang cheered happily, “I love them.”

Quan Yun-qi nodded, looking back around him at his assembling unit. The six-wheeled vehicles – something brought in from China – had the room and space to support two men if they hugged up against each other. The solid chassis and armor around the legs was a greater luxury than the empty frames of the Russian buggies, and more given the black semi-padded seating. Many – or all – had been buckled up with sleds, strapped heavily up with the soldier's gear. Most of the heavy equipment will be left behind to be tackled by the air-force. Swept up and carried in after Yun-qi establishes a base, or takes the installation.

Most of the regiment had established themselves. His lieutenant officers – his Zhong Xiao – were standing by. The distinctive long great coats of the Chinese officer corp fluttering in the cold northern wind. Faces guarded by scarves, and thickly gloved hands at their sides, like many of the men.

“We're ready.” Quan said, his voice deep as he stepped into the passenger seat of the buggy.

[b]Green Island Launch Facility[/b]

The ticking of the air conditioning was just as relevant as the ticking of the clock on the wall. The soft bubbling of a large pot of tea in the corner signaled that the pot was still being kept warm as a tired looking engineer drifted alongside the counter. Sleepless nights and the constant need for dodging a hundred questions kept the man on his toes, and he needed a place to rest. His quality of health tugging down on him like a one ton weight. His shoulders sagged, his back drooped, and his entire demeanor hung off of him like the coat he wore.

His hair was a scraggly, messy nest, barely clinging to his scalp as it thinned prematurely. His shallow cheeks were traced with faint scratch marks, as well as his hands.

He hovered over the tea. A cup half held in his hands as he stood over the tables in a tired daze.

Fuck Green Island.

He drifted in and out of a fog. Just reveling in the peace and quiet of the break room. Perhaps he'd skip the tea and throw himself down in a chair by the corner. Surely he had worked hard these passed few months checking and double checking systems and system tests until command was satisfied with safety, or they felt they had a window free of distractions to perform a public display of the programs of the Ministry of Space and Science.

He hoped he could get a window for himself to jump off this rock and keep out of the light on Hainan. Because fuck Green Island.

He knew he wouldn't be able to watch the rocket launch. But it didn't matter. He'd see footage later. He already watched more dummy rockets launch that he cared for. But the solace that he wouldn't be missing anything was a hallow comfort.

Shit, maybe he could just go and join an anti-materialist commune and spend the rest of his days shitting into a muddy hole. So long as the police decided to not take offense and sweep them up out of some farmer's field.

“Fuck Green Island.” he mumbled to himself. His voice strained and rattled. He shut his eyes. He really just needed a break. Maybe he wouldn't fall over if he fell asleep here. Someone'd wake him up when they wanted tea anyways.

Slowly, Shen Tzen drifted off to doze from his standing position. The weight of his long days gently rolling down his eyes.

But the peace could not last forever.

“Shen?” a voice said, it sounded distant and watery. Effeminate. “OH SHEEEEeeeENNN!” it screeched gayly, violently pulling Tzen out of his sleeping state. The force of a thousand flowery winds sweeping him back into reality. The tone bringing him to land with a violent jump back. Flinching and throwing the tea cup where it smashed against the wall.

The sharp shattering of the cup against brick drove a sharper nail into Shen's ears and he recoiled against that. Flinching and throwing his arms up around his head and crouching down. Was it an explosion?

“Day-um sugar, you're tight.” the voice crooned flirtingly. Wide-eyed, Tzen turned about. Standing at the door way was a tall spindly built man. Hair combed clean across his head to come to a youthful duck tail at the back. A rosy smile curled across his face.

“Hue, what the fuck?” Shen swore bitterly as he turned.

“Well hello to you!” Hue said in his distinctive effeminate tone. “I was just looking for you, but I figured I would stop in for some tea and cookies! Didn't think I'd find you at all.”

“Well, you did.” the disgruntled engineer spat as he straightened up. Reaching for his collar and pulling it out straight, “And what do you need me for?” he asked.

“Well I got a call from the engineering floor looking for you. Apparently someone thought I was the last person to have seen you since this morning.”

Tzen rubbed his temples, groaning. “I haven't even been near you until now.”

“Well I did stop by your quarters to say hello to your cat.” Hue laughed, walking over to fill a cup for of tea for himself, “I figure someone saw me then and had the idea.”

“First of all,” Tzen began, he held back bitter anger, “that isn't my cat. It's my boss's cat. The one in Mongolia. The one we're sending up into space.

“It should be be in a cage in storage. Not in my office!” Of course, if this happened he knew he would have more to deal with than sleepless nights. Even if it was a tempting alternative to now.

“Oh sure.” Hue smiled, pouring warm amber tea into his cup, “But I don't think it could work.” he smiled.

“I like cats, you know.” Hue giggled, “I used to have seven.”

“I imagine it was a thrill.” Tzen mumbled under his breath, sarcastic.

“It was.” Smiled Hue, “Now let's get you to engineering so they can show you what ever it is they want to show you.”

“Fine! Fine!” Shen Tzen waved. Hue smiled wide as he walked off with a tea cup held gingerly between his two hands.

“Alright, follow me.” he said. Even if Tzen didn't have to.

The Engineering floor was at a lower point in the entire Green Island facility, largely itself carved into the flesh of the mountain interior of the island. The concrete and steel cavern set into the hills. On one side a rail track ran through a wide tunnel. Tracks to carry the heavy equipment from here to the rocker hanger, then to the ultimate destination: the launch pad. The tracks ended with the dock yard in the opposite direction, the sea itself could be smelled distantly as a warm breeze wafted through the supply corridor.

Arranged throughout the massive chamber were the discombobulated parts for any number of things. Smaller parts of the rocket lay out on metal tables as post graduates and military engineers went through, performing the degree of attention demanded in military protocol; though such demands could go on forever, given the still unknown stresses in orbital launches.

And at the room's zenith, hanging half suspended by chains was the nose cone of the rocket, and the launch pod under it.

“I've seen this a hundred times.” Tzen shouted unhappily to the team around the pod, “What is it?”

“A few small modifications we've decided to make with your comrades in Ullanbator.” shouted a large man.

“And you didn't include me?” Tzen spat.

“You're here to observe the launch and make sure things go well,” the large man said again, the team's leader. Middle aged man. Deeply Cantonese. “And ahead of materials.”

“And you still didn't?” Tzen advanced. He met the beady eyes of the engineer with a frown.

“We didn't use anything new, so we didn't think we needed your presence.” the Cantonese engineer shot back, “But given you're doing the reports you'll need to know about what we did.”

“Alright, alright.” Tzen said impatiently, turning to the launch capsule.

The capsul wasn't anything impressive, if anything a large metal sphere. A nodule on the back contained the parachutes and flotation it'd no doubt need on its return. Pencil thin lines in its shell marking the only changes in its surface, the welds smoothed out in it and the hatch. The whole pod was hardly big enough to seat a small child in.

Except, it had been changed.

Guided by a couple engineers, they turned the pod as it hung by its crane netting. Over the course of the past month waiting a small, four centimeter diameter window had been added. “We included a mounted camera and a window into the final design,” the large, chubby man said. His voice restrained as he addressed Tzen, “If the coming launch is to make a physical comparison between pre and post launch stresses on a living creature we thought it best to install a small camera to later observe how a body moves in a beyond-Earth environment.

“The window we feel is for integrity purposes.”

“Integrity? You know I'm supposed to bring this cat back and if there's any suggestion it'll kill it then I've lost my head.” Tzen scoffed.

“And as I said earlier, we've been speaking with members of your original team in Mongolia over this. We got plexi glass in there that's at least half the times thicker than the neighboring steel. If there's anything most likely to break, it's the hull itself.

“So, you're thoughts?”

Tzen looked up at a long time. He had no opinion either way, and still wanted to find somewhere to nap. “Fine, fine. Whatever.” he mumbled.

Fuck Green Island.