[b]Colonel Solomon Troy[/b]

The journey was slow and treacherous; four diesel chugging metal beasts leading the way through torn and scarred countryside. 

From atop the leading Protector's copula, the Colonel chewed on a cigar. A new cigar. All paper and brown mush. The smoke was bitter, and the lining of his mouth burned a little, but it didn't come across to the wily soldier as a particular health risk. The Crawlers or the Bandits would get him first, not cancer. It was just a matter of time, and his luck was going to run short sooner or later.

The towering and dull ruins of Astrakane could be seen on his left, made barely visible by a partially obscured moon. This was a perfect Crawler environment - little light, plenty of cover and a bunch of humans all grouped together.

But they weren't coming, the Colonel knew this. He wouldn't have set out in darkness otherwise. No, the blow he'd dealt them earlier in the day would have sent the survivors skittering for the darkness of Astrakane's underbelly. There they'd regroup and lick their wounds first. He reasoned he'd bought himself a day or so before they threatened the Republic for the millionth time.  

A high powered rifle cracked from the darkness; a Republican Guardsman a few feet away from the roaring Protector fell to his knees with both hands warpped around his throat. It took several seconds for the Colonel to fire up the enthusiasm to deal with yet another sniper. 

"Fan out, guns up, identify and eliminate," he barked through his cigar's smoke. 

He hopped down from the tank, and joined his men as they scrambled to find the sniper. Another rifle shot sounded, and yet another son of the Republic fell down for the last time. The Colonel growled, but stood tall and refused to cower. Better a sniper take him, perhaps, than a Crawler. He could get a clean death, with a bit of luck.

But no.

He was standing because nothing would shake his fighting men more than an officer who shows fear. He offered himself to the sniper, dragging on his cigar to make himself an obvious target. The rifle cracked again, and for a moment some shrubbery a hundred yards off to the east lit up. 

"Everything we got," the Colonel yelled, pointing at the sniper's position. 

His men began firing in the sniper's general position, and a Protector fired a couple of its 40mm cannons too. It was a short battle. 

"Three humans dead, and for what?" he asked, more annoyed than anything. "What were they trying to achieve?" 

Something warm and wet dripped down his neck, and it was then that the Colonel realized his left ear had been grazed by the sniper's last shot.

"Yup," he sighed, adding a sarcastic smile. "It's going to be Crawlers. Not today, not tomorrow, but some day they'll get me. What a way to die that'll be."