The four combat cars balanced uneasily on the thrust of their fans. The firing from the crowd had slackened as the infantry withdrew. Doubtless the indginies were praising buddha or whoever the fuck for their victory Buren thought darkly. Well this wouldn’t be the first time the Slammers had been caughts with their pants down and their dicks swinging and they had come back before.

The sun was starting to set now, night bought with it the illusion of safety. It was still several hours from full dark when the Slammer's night vision kit would give them the advantage over the locals. The stink of burning petrochemicals was on the wind. SOmething was on fire already.

[b][color=598527]“Roger that Dagger Fife,”[/color][/b] he called over the crackly comm link.
[b][color=598527]
“We can withdraw west to the Memet river, booster 15 percent overlay,”[/color][/b] an overlay of the topographic map formed over his vision at low opacity. A red line obediently traced what the computer postulated as the optimum route.

[b][color=1a7b30]“From there I can take Item south to uhhhh….”[/color][/b] the hill didn’t have a name on local maps, being little more than a large bald.

[b][color=598527]“Hill 23 X-Ray Romeo, we can get hull down and give you some cover as you withdraw down to the rally point. Lay some smoke for us with your mortars if you can. Commandos might have good sensors but we will fuck the locals.”[/color][/b]

Buren looked across his battered cars. That starship was down now, Gods only knew what was on it. One of the other cars snapped a three round burst at some unseen target. They were conserving the barrels now, constant firing would errode the bores and no one knew when or if supplies would come in. His shoulders itched. Buren hated mortars with a passion.

[b][color=598527]“Booster transmit route to Dagger Fife and hold for approval.”[/color][/b]

God damn Cole, where was the icy bitch when you needed her.