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@michalsen michalsen/Love, Faith, and Rush Secret
Last active Mar 4, 2016

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What would you like to do?
FLR chp1b
Fogg let his body go limp as he felt his weight lift off the seat. He fumbled for the belt to tighten it even more, but the shake in the airframe drove his arm into the wounded soldier sitting near him. Fogg turned to apologize, but the noise of the ships skin tearing muted his effort.
He looked to the rear of the transport, the large door torn free from is moorings, the mouth opening and slamming shut with the shake throughout the ship. Go limp, he told himself. It would be over soon. Deep in his gut he felt his weight lift, then get pushed down, again and again. As controlled as an accidental crash could be done, it was still chaos.
About the transport hands reached out to hold others, groans and prayers mixed with the violent shutters. Somewhere Fogg heard a small, manical laugh. Then another. These soldiers had faced the enemy, only to be done in by this. From across the madness a guazed marine lay entangled in tubes and wires. "This won't kill me, you fucker!" he screamed. Another marine laughed, then jokes began to filter above the din how the ride of the ship reminded them of some unlucky soldiers bed.
Fogg looked to the Corpral who was watching him. "Go limp," he said. "It will help on impact." She looked up and away, her face relaxing, her one exposed eye tearing up. Fogg leaned forward as far as he could. "You'll get through this. I promise."
The first impact were the tree tops scrapping the underbelly. It was a screeching, grating sound sound like nails ripping open the aluminum floor. The airship settled down further and yawed with a jerk, Fogg thinking a wing had caught a tree trunk, or rock outcropping. He had studied their crash position at length and knew about where they were, He feared that right wing was clipped on a small bluff, confirmed when the cartwheel began.
Fogg opened his eyes at the sound of his daughter giggling, the memory quickly fading into the smoke. He looked about, trying to see her, to get a glimpse. But she was gone. She had been for years. His gaze landed on the Corporal in front of him, the guaze freshly bloodied. She was looking at him.
"Who is Kylie?" she asked. "You called out for her after he hit..." her body bending into a convulsing coughing spasm.
Fogg opened the side panels of his amoured vest and took out the flat plates and placed them across her torso. "We'll be getting fired on shortly." He pulled out several others and placed them on the sides of her head. "Keep these on you until I get back."
She coughed and several of the plates moved, so he took medics tape to secure the the armour. "Don't you need them?" she asked. He smiled as he stood, unlatching his rifle from the seat. All about the transport smoke drifted through streams of daylight from holes ripped in the airship skin.
Outside the ship Fogg mustered with several others of his team, each wrapping themselves in a thin, dark cloak. About them tall trees lay shattered on the steep hillside where they had set down. Each team member nodded to each other and began moving silently down the hill into thicker brush, Fogg taking up the rear.
A small whistle from a team member and the six ducked next to rocks and logs. The enemy had come sooner than they expected. Fogg watched the tangled airship laying exposed and resting against torn trees as two remote sentry drones moved in silently.
The cloaks they donned masked their heat from the eyes of the drones, but not fast movement. Team member by team member slowly worked their way down the hill. Fogg turned back to the airship to see a wounded soldier climbing through a tear in the side. He wanted to scream, call out and tell them to stop, but the drone was too quick. One shot and the soldier fell back through the tear.
Fogg turned his back on the ship and into the forest. Wounded or not, they were still soldiers. They knew what to do.
Love, Faith, and Rust
Chapter 1
Sargent Fogg felt the hapic tap of his watch; the two minute warning to mechanical failure in the airframe. He shifted in his seat, the thin canvas wrapped around steel tubing gaving no comfort, but he was better off than the wounded soldiers stacked throughout the transport. The nearest one, a corpral, watched him with one eye left uncovered from her bloodied gauze.
"You look nervous," she said. Fogg, feeling the weight of the watch waiting for the next tap, forced himself to not look away. She must have been nineteen. Maybe even, at one time, pretty. He smiled back, hoping to give her comfort. Not all the wounded would die here, he told himself. "Didn't know we needed special attention," she said, nodding to his main battle rifle locked in the seat next to his knee.
"Special?" Fogg asked.
"Special Forces," she said. "Those are Mark IV Plasma gernades slung on your hardware. They don't hand those out to us ground pounders."
Fogg smiled, "You know your gear, corporal."
"I'm supposed to test-in next month," she said, her head settling back, resting to her injuries.
"You're too young," Fogg said quickly, immediatly regretting the tone.
"I'm legacy," she said, seemlingly not aware of his spite. Fogg leaned forward, his fingers holding up a bandage covering her name. 'Millway, F'. "Yes, that Millway," she said.
Fogg leaned back, his eyes on her name; his thought lost as he was sitting before the wounded daughter of Jack Millway. He did not feel the watch tap the one minute warning.
She turned to see him eying her. "Next time we meet, you'll probably have to salute me, sargent." She tried to smile, but the damage under the gauze made the lips turn in pain.
"I'm sorry about your father," Fogg said. He had seen the after-action report from Artic Station Seven, where the northern front would have been lost if not for heroism of Elliot Fitzholf, and the only soldier that dared to stand and help, Sgt. Milway.
Two days after the battle, Milway's body was found amoung the wreckage of the invading troopers. Fitzholf's body was vaporized in one of the small nukes.
His watch tapped thrity seconds. Get it over with, he wanted shout. He looked about the deck of the transport, memorizing beam and bunk numbering. There were over two hundred injuried soldiers in this hold, unknowingly condemned to die in the next few minutes in order for Fogg and his men 'accidently' find a hidden enemy installation. But not all had to die. This corporal, he thought, she earned her spot through the deeds of her father.
His watch tapped out ten seconds. He set is jaw as he relaxed his body. The crash was here.
When the distant thud sounded from deep inside the transport craft, he widened his eyes. Look surprised, he remembered. But don't over sell it. She was watching him, and he saw she knew this was his doing.
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