Hitchin' A Ride

An oily haze rose from the ground as bits of earth and rock exploded outwards, visible shock waves rip through the surroundings. Phaser strikes and explosion abound through the area tearing the once beautiful scenery asunder. The wailing of the assault crafts whine overhead encircling as if raptors hunting its prey. The sound of laser cannons and small arms fire raking heavenward as if to call in defiance. A blue lance rises and spears the first craft, its cockpit explodes in angry flames. The other craft swings around in surprise as it to is brought to ground, its bowels opened by the blade of light. It follows the first into the devastated land. Their explosions shook the ground as a lone man stood, a now depleted shoulder mounted Anti-Aircraft phaser soon falling to the ground. He slowly turned as if to take in the new changes in terrain and his eyes flickered side to side looking for any unwanted movements or sights.

Gritting his teeth, his face darkened by the intermingling of dirt, grime and sweat. The last couple of days of hard fighting has placed this man in the element of battle... an element he has knowledge off. The flash of his teeth are soon hidden as he shouts!

"Marines report !" Gunnery Sergeant Richard Sharpe crouches with combat rifle at ready as he awaits their answers.

[Boatner here Sarge !]

[Jorgenson here !]

[Hendricks, still alive and kickin']

[Franklin here.]

After that there was silence from the ranks. Not that Sharpe had expected anymore call outs but it was a sobering time. The officers were all at HQ for a briefing with the rescued Fleeters, Captain Goerl and the others. The last day of fighting had whittled the Marine's Enlisted core of men from ten to four. Goerl's troops were down to three as well. The Marine's had been acting as decoys as the base of operations were moved. Face, a mask of a granite, Gunnery Sergeant Sharpe looked up and around the area. Pulling out a sensor he tabbed a button. He grunted when he saw a blip, shutting it off he moved forward.

"Marine's its time to hitch a ride, form a vee with me in the centre. Make sure that camo-netting is secure on you. Go !" The Marine's voices echoed quietly in his ear as they complied. The netting would hide them from most sensors as well as the visual eye. The only one without the netting over them was Richard Sharpe, his was still hanging at his side. Looking over to where the blip would soon become a real shape he tapped his com-link.

"Delta One to Alpha Leader."

[Alpha Leader here, Delta One. What can I do for you Sharpe ?] Scanning the sky with a grim smile, Richard answered in a low tone.

"Major just wanted to let you know, going to execute plan Gamma-3." There was a slight pause before Major Phanan answered.

[Are you sure you and the men are up to it ? It was originally designed as an eight-man assault. You are three men shy of that.] Sharpe nodded to himself, he expected that question and Major Phanan was right in bringing it up. "Yes sir, we have doubled up on a couple of positions and are confident that we will be able to accomplish the goals of the mission."

[What if you fail Sergeant ?] Sharpe looked at the four Marines as they were readying themselves.

"Well sir, please make the condolence calls good ones to their families." Phanan nodded grimly with the underlying fact from Sharpe that should it go back, more than likely that five Marines would be dead in a manner of moments.

[Affirmative... Good luck Gunnery Sergeant... I'll see you and your men back at base or on the other side. Alpha Leader out.]

"Affirmative, Delta One out." Sharpe turned back to the men. "Okay power 'em up and get your butts down." The craft would be here soon, as he checked his weapons covered by the camo-netting and waited. Looking around it now seemed that he was alone in the field. When in fact four set of rifles were tracking for the threat.

Soon the whine of the engines were heard a couple of seconds before the assault shuttle came into view. It was time to play !. Squinting as the low flying craft hovered, it's weapons turned on the single man standing in the field. The craft turned so the cockpit pointed at the man. An amplified voice echoed towards Sharpe.

[Prepare to be taken aboard. Do not move, or you will be killed !] Sharpe knew that the Assault Shuttles had no transporters aboard, allowing more cargo space. But should it signal another to transport him, the plan would fail. It was a fickle plan that dealt in chance. But the odds were even... and the Marines had a job to do. A shaking of dice seem to echo in Richard's head as he raised his arms to show he had no weapons. The die is cast. The ship lowers slowly to the ground. The cubes of luck roll forward. The rear hatch opens as two Bariens descend with weapons drawn and set on kill. The die bounce back to present the score. They motion him to move towards them and he does. The die count seven. The soldiers notice too late as the camo-netting shivers as Richard's arms fall to his waist and pull up a blazing combat rifle catching one soldier in the chest. The four Marines are up and in motion. As the second Barien is dropped by withering fire from Boatner and Franklin, Hendricks and Jorgenson rush inside the craft and the brief sounds of small arms fire rattle. Sharpe, Boatner and Franklin enter the craft and assist Boatner in removing the pilot and co-pilot's bodies from the craft. They close the hatch, Sharpe rushes forward to the cockpit where Franklin is tapping the controls.

"Status, Franklin ?" Sharpe asked as he checked the sensors.

"Good to go Sarge !" Franklin spoke quickly his hands moving across the board. Boatner and Hendricks had already moved to the gunnery turret positions.

"Then why are we still here Private ? Move out to point Agamemnon rendezvous... We got to pick up our officers. " Activating his com unit he sent a brief message to Major Phanan.

"Call for a cab ?"