Spring RTS Engine

Mainly trying to improve my writing skills. What do you think?

Two shells fell from the sky, adding to raging crescendo of war. They fell in a graceful arc towards the rubble-strewn ground of what used to be a white-stone church. The were probably newly made, lacking as they did the coat of dirt and dust that covered nearly everything in the city. On their sides were the letter INC-GHE-L22. These shells were incendiary. They landed with the usual bang, as the firing plug in the nose was forced through the rear of the shell, by the force of the impact with the ground, creating hundreds of sparks, which fell upon the (highly compressed) gas and fuel contained in the middle section. The gas exploded and the fuel ignited. The intended inferno was, however, cut short rather abruptly, as the roof and one of the walls of the building stuck collapsed thanks to the gas explosion. Without a supply oxygen the flames died. Over the newly fallen rubble ran a man. He was wearing a filthy and battle worn combat suit ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ several layers of thick fabric with light-weight metal plates sewn on ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ and his helmet had several dents in. His ear bead was missing and his Blast-rifle had a large hole in it. He had no ammo for it anyway. The man kept running, stumbling, tripping and clambering.

Here was a man in the last stages of exhaustion, his eyes wide and staring, his legs unable to keep up with commands, he was almost hyperventilating and had his back bent low. He was covered in a thick layer of sweat and felt ill. He was dizzy and his hand-eye co-ordination had long since gone down the drain. He could barely stand, let alone run. Yet run he did. Shells fell. Bullets flew. Wounded cried for aid. Fires, tanks and corpses alike burned. The dead just lay in eerie silence. The man was sent into a wall by a stay round. It had hit his helmet, forming yet another dent in it. The man managed to get to his feet and reached a stairway. He ran up, using the side rail as a support. He ran up to the next floor and though a door-less doorway. Two of his fellows, barely indistinguishable from the newcomer with their battle dresses similarly muddied and battered. They were operating a Repeater mounted on a windowsill. The acrid smell of gunpowder filled the nostrils, the loud, barking retort of the Repeater filled the ears and a smoke-covered ruined city, built primarily of white stone ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ now shattered, charred and everywhere ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ filled the eyes. The two machine-gunners didn├óÔé¼Ôäót look up. A battalion of GHE infantry were trying their damnedest to advance up the street. The newly arrived man shouted over the din.

├óÔé¼┼ôWe├óÔé¼Ôäóre not where were supposed to be!├óÔé¼┬Ø

├óÔé¼┼ôNo-one├óÔé¼Ôäós where supposed to be!├óÔé¼┬Ø the machine gunner shouted back without a pause in his firing.

├óÔé¼┼ôHC wants us on the bell tower of that church over there!├óÔé¼┬Ø

├óÔé¼┼ôBalls to that! That things a fucking arty magnet!├óÔé¼┬Ø

├óÔé¼┼ôSo are we!├óÔé¼┬Ø The new guy replied.

├óÔé¼┼ôWe├óÔé¼Ôäóre nearly out of ammo too, and my canteens got several holes in it├óÔé¼┬Ø Said the other gunner. The new arrival held up his battered rifle, which too had several holes in it.

├óÔé¼┼ôWe gotta resupply soon├óÔé¼┬Ø the gunner agreed

├óÔé¼┼ôIs the armoury still intact?├óÔé¼┬Ø asked the second gunner

├óÔé¼┼ôRPG!├óÔé¼┬Ø

All three ducked as the rocket shot over their heads. After it had passed, the second gunner turned to the new guy.

├óÔé¼┼ôDoes Salfi├óÔé¼Ôäós unit still hold the armoury?├óÔé¼┬Ø

The new guy shook his head. ├óÔé¼┼ôGHE├óÔé¼Ôäós took it yesterday. Salfi and his men ran carrying as much as they could, and have up a resupply point at the Fountain Park.├óÔé¼┬Ø

The Fountain Park, as its name implied, had lots of fountains in it, with none now remaining intact. It was a very good defensive position. Salfi had made good choice reconsolidating there. The only problem was that it was several blocks away. Whilst that wouldn├óÔé¼Ôäót normally be considered problematic, in Soelis the path was populated with rubble, snipers, mines and lots and lots of thing that wanted to kill you. It was not surprising for the gunner to swear upon hearing this. He then paused in firing.

├óÔé¼┼ôLoading!├óÔé¼┬Ø He called out, and removed the bulky ammo box, tossed it and looked for a fresh one. He found one. Unfortunately... ├óÔé¼┼ôBrandy, last mag!├óÔé¼┬Ø

├óÔé¼┼ôRoger├óÔé¼┬Ø shouted the second gunner, presumably ├óÔé¼╦£Brandy├óÔé¼Ôäó. Brandy was, of course, a nick-name. The new guy didn├óÔé¼Ôäót even think to ask his real one.

├óÔé¼┼ôAnyone got a pistol mag?├óÔé¼┬Ø The Repeater gunner, now firing again, patted one of his pockets. Brandy pulled out a mag and tossed it to the new guy, who pulled out an unloaded pistol and inserted the magazine into the handle. ├óÔé¼┼ôCheers├óÔé¼┬Ø

Brandy nodded

├óÔé¼┼ôRPGS!├óÔé¼┬Ø shouted the Repeater gunner, who ducked before the other two. Several RPGs shot overhead, slamming into the wall behind, knocking everyone all over the place and showering everything with dust and small bits of rubble. Coughing, Brandy got to his feet and tried to get his bearings. ├óÔé¼┼ôGeddown stupid!├óÔé¼┬Ø the Machine Gunner shouted, before he kicked Brandy├óÔé¼Ôäós legs out from under him, causing him to fall. Several shots smashed into the fall in-front of which Brandy had just been standing. There was silence, despite the thunderous barrage Soelis endured day and night. The sound of shelling had long since become background noises. Several men began scrambling up. Brandy could smell them clearly ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ GHE conscripts all carried small sachets of painkiller, which stank to high heaven ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ as they moved up the rumble. They may have thought that the smoke of the RPG impacts may have covered their approach, but with the amount of noise they were making they were effectively in the open.

A point emphasised when, in a flurry of light and noise, a pistol, repeater and blast-rifle all opened fire in unison. Weapons clattered, bodies landed with a wet thump, and the smoke finally cleared. There were eight. Most had been hit in the chest.

├óÔé¼┼ôYou know what? Fuck this.├óÔé¼┬Ø The machine gunner declared. ├óÔé¼┼ôI say we head to the fountains and resupply. This sectors├óÔé¼Ôäó a gonner for sure.├óÔé¼┬Ø

├óÔé¼┼ôRoger that├óÔé¼┬Ø Brandy replied. The three got their feet, and it suddenly occurred to Brandy that he didn├óÔé¼Ôäót know their names. The machine gunner├óÔé¼Ôäós name was taped onto the back of his helmet: ├óÔé¼╦£Sheepshit├óÔé¼Ôäó. Another nickname, presumably. Brandy├óÔé¼Ôäós real name (Flavin Brabur) hadn├óÔé¼Ôäót been used in years. He├óÔé¼Ôäód got the nickname after ├óÔé¼╦£acquiring├óÔé¼Ôäó several large barrels of the drink from an abandoned drink store. He dragged the barrels back to his base camp one by one. Only when the last barrel had been dumped in the mess hall did someone tell him that he├óÔé¼Ôäód just dragged barrels of brandy through a minefield eight times. After that the nickname had stuck like glue. He decided he didn├óÔé¼Ôäót want to know the backstory behind ├óÔé¼╦£Sheepshit├óÔé¼Ôäó.

(I'll explain the whole war and Soelis etc later on in the story)

EDIT: Typo-me-fix!

Very, very nice. I like how you keep it as gritty and realistic as possible, and I like the way the men found out eachothers names:
brandy: 'second gunner'
Sheepshit: 'first gunner'
and we still dont know the 'new guy's' name.

did I get all that right?

Seems like we're getting alot of these things these days... If zaphod would approve would you guys use a fanfic/creative writing forum section if we had one?

hmm I think simply adding a forum wouldnt be wise, i think instead the whole forum should be split into 2/3 categories each with a minimum of 2 forums

e.g.

General + Help + News + feature requests(I say put that last one in)

Dev + AI + modding + mapping

offtopic + the new forum you suggested

Good story. A bit of a shaky start, but picked up quickly. The lengths people go for a drink

Good suggestions AF, go bug the admins.

Cool! I kept saying I wanted people to write new things, and I thought no one had listened. Then someone did. Huzza!

...now if only I can get them to send me money...TRUCKLOADS AND TRUCKLOADS OF MONEY!

Not bad. A few suggestions:


1)Try to avoid clich├â┬®s and colloquialisms. This is hard to define, but if you feel like you've seen a phrase before, try to avoid using it. Its probably overused. Examples from your piece are "long since gone down the drain", "stank to high heaven"

2) Lower the language of your narrator. The diction of the narrator should match the setting/story, at least a bit. The first section, where you talk about the grime of the city and the shell arcing, you describe the filth and dust of the war that has blended with the city. But..your narrator is speaking like an encyclopedia. "Lacking as they did..." is a good attempt at playing with word order (or maybe you just read it somewhere, who knows =P), but it doesn't match the setting in the least. That kind of diction reminds me of Victorian era tea parties, not a city that's been rammed in the rear by war.

In short, if your story is grimy or simple, keep the narration equally grimy and simple. Or at least simple.

This is really difficult to accomplish, especially if you're used to writing high level analytical essays or whatnot. Just do as best you can to narrate like a veteran telling a story a few years later, rather than a history professor commenting on the events.

Think Saving Private Ryan vs the History channel, only instead of film techniques, you have words.

3) Show, not tell. "Here is a man in the last stages of exhaustion" is unneeded. You go on to show the reader exactly how he is exhausted, which is great. Rather than preface it with "this guy is tired", just cut to the chase and show it.

4) Grittify the dialogue. Yes, I just made up a word. You do pretty well with some speech, but it could certainly improve. Think unimaginable stress and terseness. Of course a lot of it is just alarms and 'rogers', but the longer bits of speech could be a bit more..well, gritty.

"Does Salfi's unit still hold the armoury?"--grittifier!-->"Salfi's boys still got the armoury?"
I suck at dialogue, so that wasn't a great example. Hope its clear though.


Overall, not bad. If you work on the language of the narrator a bit, this could be a really solid piece.

I don't claim that I could do a better job - its always easier to critique than actually put up and write something. I'm looking forward to the finished version.

Why dose everyone offer advice and suggestions at OTHER people story forums and not mine?

But those are all good suggestion, but my main advice would be: Plan ahead. You can really really really easly write your self into a corner and have to come up with a crappy ending...

for an example see the Zombie Extermination Team!

Brandy walked over to freshly killed GHE conscripts, only to find none of them dead. Most had been hit in the lungs and were fighting for air they now couldn├óÔé¼Ôäót get. A lucky two had been hit in the heart and killed instantly, whilst one truly unlucky soul had been hit in the stomach by the Repeater and was missing most of his intestines. Brandy looked at them without emotion. Two weeks ago, he├óÔé¼Ôäód have put a bullet through their heads to ease their pain, but as of one week ago he didn├óÔé¼Ôäót have the bullets to spare. In this fiery hell he├óÔé¼Ôäód been desensitised to violence, blood and death. It came too quick and too often for you to have a chance to contemplate it and live on. The other two ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ ├óÔé¼╦£Sheepshit├óÔé¼Ôäó and the other guy ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ were climbing down the other side were the rubble had formed a rather steep and treacherous edge covered with footholds. Brandy, who still had his hookshot, took the quicker (and safer) route. He shot the hook into a still standing lamp post. That fell over. He retracted the hook and shot it into the ceiling. The hook stuck firm, and Brandy lowered himself down the steep incline, reaching the bottom before the others. Sheepshit looked at him with disdain.

├óÔé¼┼ôWhat?├óÔé¼┬Ø asked Brandy, as he retracted the rope. The hook brought with it a large hunk of concrete straight onto his helmet, knocking him to the floor. Brandy, groaning, got his feet to see Sheepshit smiling as though he had seen it all happen before. ├óÔé¼┼ôShut up├óÔé¼┬Ø

├óÔé¼┼ôDidn├óÔé¼Ôäót say anything├óÔé¼┬Ø Sheepshit replied. Brandy was about to retort when a GHE carbine opened fire with its distinctive crack, knocking the new guy to the floor.

├óÔé¼┼ôSonnova fuck!├óÔé¼┬Ø He cried. The other two instinctively took cover by a wall and opened fire. Two GHE conscripts ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ it was always the conscripts ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ fell bleeding and screaming, though Brandy knew one had only been grazed on the shoulder ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ the bullet hadn├óÔé¼Ôäót exploded in his body (hence the name ├óÔé¼╦£Blast-rifle├óÔé¼Ôäó). He had just shut down at the first bit of pain. Probably some kid who picked the wrong time to go outdoors. That├óÔé¼Ôäós what the GHE has throwing at them. Kids. Barely fed, barely trained, kids. The experienced ones ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ the ├óÔé¼╦£Regulars├óÔé¼Ôäó ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ Regular infantry who had had time (three years) to be properly trained ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ were rare now, with most of them killed off by two unlucky twists of fate. First one: The Tessarin invaded the Western Sector of the Galactic Human Empire. Caught off-guard, without a clue about what they were fighting against, the Regulars never stood much of a chance, and were either killed in action or controlled, though they had wizened up now. Second one: The accidental ambush by the Psychasi Defence Fleet ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ that was a bit of a long story. Regulars were rare now. The third conscript ran. Instead of shooting him, Sheepshit grabbed a bit of debris and threw it. The conscript, who wasn├óÔé¼Ôäót wearing a helmet, got hit in the head and fell. Blood had spurted. The guy wouldn├óÔé¼Ôäót survive. Sheepshit hadn├óÔé¼Ôäót shot him because he couldn├óÔé¼Ôäót afford to waste his remaining ammunition on someone running away. The guy who was with them got up angrily, thumbing a fresh dent in his helmet.

├óÔé¼┼ôFifth time today...├óÔé¼┬Ø

Sheepshit smiled and continued moving. Brandy noticed several dents in Sheepshit├óÔé¼Ôäós helmet too, along with several dents in his body armour. The three corner just in time as bullets and an RPG (the RPG was the only explosive besides grenades that GHE conscripts could safely operate after a day long crash course) crashed into a pile of rubble opposite them

├óÔé¼┼ôThey were quick!├óÔé¼┬Ø someone shouted angrily. Sheepshit├óÔé¼Ôäós Repeater opened fire and the conscripts hid.

├óÔé¼┼ôRun!├óÔé¼┬Ø

They ran. Stumbling over rubble and tripping over rebar. They were leapfrogging back in fighting retreat. Brandy and the other guy would cover each other as they fell back, one shooting, the other running and then they swapped, the other shooting, and so on. Sheepshit, with his cumbersome Repeater, kept on running. His repeater took too long to properly deploy and didn├óÔé¼Ôäót have much ammo left for it at any rate. The three ran into several other Psychasi troops also falling back in the same way. Their position was being overwhelmed, again. They kept on running until they ran into some Sergeant who stopped them, and organised a very haphazard defence. He ushered them into a building to protect them from artillery fire. As Brandy looked about with his hands on his knees, panting, he saw that everyone looked alike. All coated with blood, dirt and sweat, making identifying individual people was extremely difficult. He managed to pick out Sheepshit solely by the fact he the only one with a Repeater, and he couldn├óÔé¼Ôäót spot the unnamed guy who had found them earlier and told them to relocate.

Brandy took the chance to recuperate a bit. He took a swig from his canteen and remembered that it had two holes in it, then checked his ammo. Two clips and a grenade. And that chunk of ceiling was still attached to the hookshot, but that would take some time to remove. The Sergeant described what was going on. As it turned out the GHE conscripts were being supported by armoured units, primarily AFVs. The Sergeant organised the men into fighting parties. The rag-tag group of about forty included nearly all the weapons from the Psychasi armoury (save the las-rifle and Psychasi version of the RPG, as there was no Mechs wandering about and the Psychasi RPG was primarily an anti-air weapon) and several weapons from the GHEs. The group had two AT teams left, both with some of their ammo left. The Sergeant organised two Tank Hunter squads of the usual configuration: an AT team with two supporting infantrymen. Brandy and some guy called Seski went with AT Team 1, consisting of a loader and a gunner, Baska and Kalko (Female) respectively. Kalko├óÔé¼Ôäós FML (Fracture Missile Launcher ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ meant for cracking large holes in things) had six notches on the grip, which boded well. Baska explained what they ended to do, along with a map. Maps, however, were rather misleading in that they didn├óÔé¼Ôäót show what roads or routes were now blocked off by rubble and stuff like that. Fortunately, Baskin was fairly sensible, and had marked blocked routes himself:

├óÔé¼┼ôThe GHE├óÔé¼Ôäós can only move their armour up three main roads. This one here, where we are, is going to be blocked off by the Sergeant├óÔé¼Ôäós troop. The other one, farthest away will be held by Naemi├óÔé¼Ôäós squad. The one, off down there, will be held by us. Last time I was around there it was pretty rubble choked, so they may not come down there with tanks. If they do we let the lead vehicle to come up to about here├óÔé¼┬Ø he pointed to where the rubble was marked as ending ├óÔé¼┼ôand knock it out, blocking any vehicles behind it getting past. Then we take out the last vehicle in the column and fence them in. Then its practically a chicken shoot├óÔé¼┬Ø Except, of course, chickens don├óÔé¼Ôäót shoot back ├óÔé¼┼ôWe will have to relocate like crazy and you two will probably have a hard time fending off infantry, all we have is this launcher, and neither of us want to waste our rockets on conscripts├óÔé¼┬Ø Brandy thought this fair enough. BMLs weren├óÔé¼Ôäót much use indoors, unless you were shooting out a window. ├óÔé¼┼ôWe don├óÔé¼Ôäót have much time, and the other squad going to the second road will have an even harder job because they probably won├óÔé¼Ôäót get there in time. Lets move!├óÔé¼┬Ø

And they did. They got to the main road ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ designated Road 3 ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ and spent some time figuring out good firing spots. Then, they waited. Brandy pulled up a chair / sofa thing and reflected. The Psychasi and the Galactic Human Empire had formed and grown independent of each other, neither knowing of the other├óÔé¼Ôäós existence. It had started with the overpopulation of Earth, mankind├óÔé¼Ôäós homeworld and presumably deep within GHE territory. The first ship had primarily been designed by the British, but they ran out of funds and passed all their designs onto the three most overpopulated countries: China (which became democratic after a failed war with Russia in which the Communist government was overthrown), Russia and Africa. The US did their best to stop this. Most of their economy depended on the Africans and their debts. They also needed to be seen as the most powerful nation on Earth. They couldn├óÔé¼Ôäót allow any other country to launch mankind├óÔé¼Ôäós first colonisation mission. They tried to call in all African debts but was stopped by the UN. They stopped all trade with participating countries but Russian and China had become self sufficient and they kept the economies of the other participants intact. In fact, the only thing the US managed to do was damage their own economy and make France pull out. The US started their own colonisation project, called the ├óÔé¼╦£Ark├óÔé¼Ôäó project. The British-designed, Russian and Chinese built ├óÔé¼┼ôПроект Колонизации Один├óÔé¼┬Ø (Russian. Colonisation Project One) launched first. It├óÔé¼Ôäós ├óÔé¼╦£maiden voyage├óÔé¼Ôäó didn├óÔé¼Ôäót have anything close the intended number of colonists aboard. It was a test flight. Pure and simple. However, something when wrong with the navigation systems and the Проект Колонизации Один went wildly off course. It left Earth├óÔé¼Ôäós atmosphere. And that was the last time Earth had been seen. The Проект Колонизации Один├óÔé¼Ôäós population slowly grew over time as it floated along. The ship was self-sufficient ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ plants were used for oxygen supply and food, there was a small number of farm animals aboard (they were testing the effects of space travel on farm animals at the same time), it had a water recycler and the entire thing was solar powered. Eventually, the technicians managed to fix the ship but the Проект Колонизации Один, not intending on going any great distance on the test flight, didn├óÔé¼Ôäót have much fuel, the Проект Колонизации Один├óÔé¼Ôäós passengers had no way of resupplying it. So they kept going in a straight line until they found a planet suitable for human life. This planet was dubbed L-Liyra. The Проект Колонизации Один landed perfectly and the Psychasi grew from there, building new ├óÔé¼╦£Colony Ships├óÔé¼Ôäó and expanding. No-one knew what happened to Earth. Presumably the Galactic Human Empire grew from there, but this assumption was being shaken slightly by what the prisoners had been saying. The Sainilae interrogators were still trying to piece things together. As for the GHE-Psychasi war in which Brandy was currently embroiled, that had started by accident. The GHE was in trouble fighting off the Tessarin invasion (the Sainilae interrogators were still trying to piece that together too) and was running low on the resources and men (hence the conscription). The GHE tried to expand away from the Tessarin in the ├óÔé¼╦£Western Sector├óÔé¼Ôäó and away towards the East. The East was rich in resources ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ and also housed the Psychasi. The Psychasi Defence Fleet ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ which was at the time a bit of a running joke because there was nothing to defend against ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ was running a drill involving new stealth technology. The GHE colony ships ran straight into them by accident. Put simply there was chaos ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ the PDF mistaking the GHE ships for target raft and began blasting the hell out of them. Then GHE├óÔé¼Ôäós started firing back. There was absolute pandemonium, but in the end the GHE retreated, badly mauled. Then they returned with a proper invasion fleet and the PDF got flattened. And now Soelis, the capitol city of Shishira IX was under seige.

======================
Production notes:
The 'Sainilae interrogators were still piecing it together' thing isn't because I haven't thought out the backstory. It'll be revealed later

If Проект Колонизации Один doesn't mean Colony Ship One, blame http://ets6.freetranslation.com/

Sorry, but could you PLEASE cut it up into smaller paragraphs. I have a realyl hard time reading huge blocks of text, but can tackle paragraphs no prob.

And let me check the P's are one side, the GHE is another and the main charicters are on the third? Or are they P's?

finally now Zoombie gets to squirm in anticipation ^.^, love the story btw

Squirm? No. Anticipation...double no. jk

Zoombie wrote:Sorry, but could you PLEASE cut it up into smaller paragraphs. I have a realyl hard time reading huge blocks of text, but can tackle paragraphs no prob.

And let me check the P's are one side, the GHE is another and the main charicters are on the third? Or are they P's?

Brandy and co. are Psychasi. They're fighting GHE conscripts

Keep writing!!!!

PS: Anyone else think that this reads like the first ten minuts of the pilot of Firefly? Or is that just me....

I've never seen Firefly...

Sheepshit, with his Repeater, was in the main group with the sergeant. With him was about 20 others, the unnamed sergeant, Senior Lieutenant Tostin and Starshina Plavin, who was constantly trying to undermine S.L Tostin for personal reasons he wouldn├óÔé¼Ôäót disclose. Sheepshit didn├óÔé¼Ôäót mind; Tostin was an arsehole. S.L. Tostin was sad when the men under him were happy and exultant when his ├óÔé¼╦£underlings├óÔé¼Ôäó were miserable. His ego lived off other peoples├óÔé¼Ôäó pain and misfortune and suffering. Now he had a mix of emotions: his men were afraid of dying and that made him happy. He was, in Sheepshit├óÔé¼Ôäós eyes, insecure and jealous of everyone and make himself seem better by making everyone else seem worse off. He did, however, had the sense to spot that with all his constant cajoling Sheepshit and his men would not hesitate to finish him off if the enemy didn├óÔé¼Ôäót, which was probably what Starshina Plavin was hoping would happen when he doped Tostin├óÔé¼Ôäós drink and drove him to the front before Tostin had a chance to wheedle out of frontline combat. Tostin despised Sheepshit because Sheepshit didn├óÔé¼Ôäót care at all. Tostin couldn├óÔé¼Ôäót cajole and aggravate him, he couldn├óÔé¼Ôäót instil fear and make him quiver in his boots ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ Totsin├óÔé¼Ôäós favourite pastime. He was an impenetrable rock upon which Tostin├óÔé¼Ôäós insults and boot-quivering techniques broke upon without any affect at all. Sheepshit was actually looking forwards to the upcoming fight because it would make S.L Tostin quiver in his boots.

Sheepshit checked over the Repeater, disassembling it and cleaning the barrel as best he could. The dirt and dust of the city did not mix well with long barrelled weapons. He had scrounged more Repeater clips off a guy who├óÔé¼Ôäós Repeater had been hit early on and made inoperable. The guy still had the clips because they were attached to his belt and he couldn't remove them without removing his belt. Then, a bullet hit him in the side and broke the belt in two, and the clips, along with copious amounts of blood, slid onto the floor to be snatched up by Sheepshit as everyone ran from the GHEs. Sheepshit knew about the belt because the man was next to him, unmoved and still bleeding. Lacking morphine, Sheepshit shot him with a tranquilliser, the one thing everyone had in large supply. Thus the man got extremely silly extremely fast. Sheepshit upped the dosage in his darts and shot him again to make him black out. Locked, loaded and on its tripod, Sheepshit left the Repeater in its position to go and try to wheedle the personal reason out of Starshina Plavin again.

Brandy sat in rather rickety chair waiting for the first signs of the GHE tanks. Seski was talking animatedly about the war with Kelko. Brandy wasn├óÔé¼Ôäót sure whether to take him seriously or not. According to Baska, Seski played practical jokes far too often and would probably get into trouble for it eventually. However, Brandy, listening to Seski├óÔé¼Ôäós conversation, could tell that Seski├óÔé¼Ôäós love for jokes was probably a defence mechanism. Seski couldn├óÔé¼Ôäót take the seriousness of the war, and so made fun of it. As he put it himself after a beer or two Brandy found in a cabinet, ├óÔé¼╦£there were things so serious that people can only joke about them├óÔé¼Ôäó. Brandy had been waiting for several hours for the GHE tanks to rumble on in and try to kill them. They were almost certain to succeed. Three men and a woman could not hold off even a lacklustre attack by an armoured column with infantry support. Conscripts or not, they were almost certain to be overrun by them. Kelko wouldn├óÔé¼Ôäót listen to him and said he was crazy. If High Command said they should and could hold this road, they could. Firstly, as Brandy had retorted, that was defying logic. It was also not High Command├óÔé¼Ôäós idea. It was S.L Tostin├óÔé¼Ôäós, and he was looking out for his own safety. The AT teams wouldn├óÔé¼Ôäót even have infantry support if Starshina Plavin hadn├óÔé¼Ôäót intervened. They├óÔé¼Ôäód have to block off the road using the wrecks of GHE tanks in the column and then run like hell. He told himself to shut up and tried to listen the Seski and Kelko├óÔé¼Ôäós conversation

├óÔé¼┼ôThink about it though!├óÔé¼┬Ø Seski urged

├óÔé¼┼ôBut its stupid!├óÔé¼┬Ø Kelko retorted

├óÔé¼┼ôHow?├óÔé¼┬Ø

├óÔé¼┼ôHigh Command says that they├óÔé¼Ôäóve got huge armies, well supplied and trained. Your theory doesn├óÔé¼Ôäót make sense! They├óÔé¼Ôäóre cutting the GHE forces to ribbons!├óÔé¼┬Ø

├óÔé¼┼ôNo, they were cutting the GHE forces to ribbons, and they doing that because the GHE didn├óÔé¼Ôäót know what they were facing. Now its come to a standstill!├óÔé¼┬Ø

├óÔé¼┼ôYeah right. How the hell would you know?├óÔé¼┬Ø

├óÔé¼┼ôLong story. But look at us. When the GHE invaded Psychasi space we beat the crap out of them! Now look where we are!├óÔé¼┬Ø

├óÔé¼┼ôYou├óÔé¼Ôäóve been talking to the prisoners haven├óÔé¼Ôäót you?├óÔé¼┬Ø

The Psychasi had captured a lot of GHE conscripts. They were behind the lines fenced in with laser walls. Seski and Kelko├óÔé¼Ôäós conversation fell into the backgroundin an instant. Brandy had heard something. Gravel being crushed under the weight of something large and heavy. Like a tank. Then picked out the hum of engines over the noise. They had arrived. Baska burst in. He must have been sitting on the roof as a self-declared look out.

├óÔé¼┼ôThe GHEs are here!├óÔé¼┬Ø

├óÔé¼┼ôPardon?├óÔé¼┬Ø

├óÔé¼┼ôDon├óÔé¼Ôäót change the subject! Its a stupid, stupid theory!├óÔé¼┬Ø

├óÔé¼┼ôShut up the pair of you!├óÔé¼┬Ø

├óÔé¼┼ôHey what did you say Baska?├óÔé¼┬Ø

├óÔé¼┼ôThe GHEs are here!├óÔé¼┬Ø

├óÔé¼┼ôOh shit!├óÔé¼┬Ø

There was a mad rush as everyone grabbed their weapons.

├óÔé¼┼ôEverybody to their positions. Go, go, go!├óÔé¼┬Ø Baska shouted as the first tank turned the street corner and became visible.

------------------------

PRODUCTION NOTES
You may have noticed a slightly different writing method when speaking from Sheepshit's perspective

3 points to whoever guesses who Seski and Kelko were talking about

Who is Sheepshit? A psycologist?

PS: very very good so far

No, he's just very good at reading people

And by that you mean he is a psyciatrist?

He was never employed as one

YET!