Commando Archive
Thread: Fields of Engagement- The definition of a Commando as I see it. A short story by Ire
Fields of Engagement- The definition of a Commando as I see it
By Ire
You've accepted the job of a lifetime- dangerous but the pay is rich.You're surrounded by all sorts of mercenaries, sitting in a holding area of a drop ship.Nobody speaks as they wait nervously in this confined space, most of them are double checking their weapons- taking them apart and putting them back together.A few of them carry pistols, a few carry carbines or rifles, and even a few carry a blade or lance- but all of them sit there silently, going over their pre-practiced shots and moves, hoping it will be enough to get the job done and come out alive.You lean back against the bulkhead and casually fall asleep as the drop ship enters the atmosphere.
As soon as the ship lands, the first wave of mercenaries storm out.The Scouts and Rangers immediately mask their scent as to not alert the local fauna, and begin scanning the perimeter of the drop site for hostiles.The Riflemen set themselves in concealed defensive positions, strategically located as to not be discovered until it is too late.The Carbineers and the Pistoleers follow the Monks, Pikemen, and Swordsmen as they make their way to the insertion point.You casually stretch your arms and legs and let out a very long yawn, drawing strange looks from those around you.The squad leader is coordinating the initial assault as you start putting your gear on.The cigar you just lit smolders it's first dying ashes on the ground as you take your first steps out into the battlefield.
The initial assault is brutal.Within seconds, the sky is lit up around you and the air burns with the final screams of the first victims of the battle.Morale begins to fade as the mercenaries begin to discover that their weapons have little to no direct impact on the increasing numbers of the enemy that seem to be swarming over your position.Your squad leader calls for an all out retreat and regroup to help regain control of the battlefield.This is your time to shine...
The first enemy to make contact with you comes in the form of a wild-eyed Trandoshan, brandishing a wicked looking scythe blade in his hands.The attack comes swiftly and from the sky as he leaps down at you, his blade arcing like a silver blur.It nearly clips your ear as you sidestep him and draw out your Launcher Pistol, firing a small barrage of explosive missiles that toss his lifeless body back several yards.
Chaos erupts around you as the retreat is in force, your fellow mercenaries desperately trying to find the right weapon to pierce the armor of the advancing enemy.You holster your Launcher Pistol and draw out your Burner.As you pull the trigger you can’t help but smile as the flame streaks out in a wide arc, holding back the advancing horde and giving your fellow soldiers time to regroup.The smell of burning flesh permeates your nostrils, the sight of smoldering carcasses litter your field of view.All becomes silent as the last of your comrades crosses your position on his way to regroup.You turn and run to the rally point in morbid curiosity to see who managed to survive.
The Squad leader paces back and forth in deep thought, his eyes flashing a mixture of fear and anger in the morning sun.Your comrades discuss quick battle strategies in preparation for the impending re-assault.Nobody sees the second wave until it’s too late…
From across the clearing, a steady stream of laser fire from several sources pelts the makeshift encampment, striking several doctors and combat medics.You kneel on the ground and pull out your shoulder mounted Heavy Particle Beam Cannon, humming a jolly tune to yourself as you go to work.
The concussion wave from the impact of the cannon sends body parts raining from the sky.You catch movement from the left in the form of a heavily armed vehicle.You drop the Cannon and retrieve a Rocket Launcher from your never-ending pack of goodies.The resulting explosion from the rocket meeting the vehicle’s armor sends track treads and metal shards into the startled bodies of the shell-shocked enemy troops.You can’t help but laugh at the irony of the latest battle accord mentioning the use of heavy weapons against non-armored targets as you pick up your Heavy Acid launcher and spray heavy globs of acidic goo on the already dying enemy troops.“No job is done unless it’s done right” is the motto echoing in your ears.
But the carnage you unleashed just caught the eye of a few of the enemy’s Creature Handlers, and before you know it, you are being pursued by a few Sludge Panthers and a very nasty looking Rancor.You turn and run for your life, but not before you leave a few presents for your pursing foes.The first Sludge Panther is directly above the Cyoban grenade when it detonates, leaving a frozen statue of a Panther in mid stride and a half frozen Panther desperately trying to free itself from the instant ice.The second Panther almost manages to free itself as the second surprise you left behind you beeps in rapid succession.The Plasma grenade sends a bright blue ring expanding outward from the center of impact, shattering the frozen Panther into a thousand shards of cold meat and eviscerating the remaining Panther.The resulting spray of gore paints a streak across the neck and chest of the Rancor as it falls back from the shockwave.
The Rancor pulls itself up and howls a mighty roar as it charges the direction you fled.As the Rancor crosses the skyline, it doesn’t even have a chance to blink as it is slammed in the stomach by an impossibly fast streak of electrical energy.Dazed, the Rancor doesn’t know which way to move as the second streak hits it squarely in the face.The Rancor attempts to move in your direction as the third streak of electrical energy blows one of its legs off.The ground shakes as it hits the ground, causing the now advancing swordsman to stumble a bit as they reach the dying Rancor to finish the job.The sound of the Rancor’s last screams sends chills down your spine as the enemy calls a full retreat…
You notice as you are re-packing your backpack that your Cigar is no longer lit.Smiling as you ignite it with a light squeeze of your Flamer’s trigger, you blow out the flame and sling the rifle over your shoulder.Some people think of you as a walking tank. Others think of you as an overpowered freak.But you prefer to think of yourself as a walking armory, a mobile ordinance depot with a weapon for every situation, and right now, every single person in your unit is glad you are here.There are definitely certain days that the smell of a good cigar can cover up the worst smells in the world…