BY: Gladiator
The
battle for the armor factory was over; the first one anyway.
The base defenders still could not believe it.
Yes, they had lost a lot of comrades, but a worthy sacrifice to maintain
the now exalted stronghold. Warriors
cheered and cannons roared skyward to announce the defeat of the Draconis
Combine to the Federated Suns. A
massive celebration was in order, Edwards knew it, and the men would get one.
Edwards watched as the high-spirited mechwarriors stomped victoriously
across the battlefield, home to the base. The
assemblage of awkward lumbering ill-shaped mecha paraded through the main base
entry point in a show of honor.
With
the smoke of the hellish battle now mostly dissipated, strung out myomer fibers
could now clearly be seen in place of missing mech joints.
Crushed struts and girders were covering the soiled muck of the ground.
Edwards didn't even want to estimate a guess at the time it would take to
repair the plant's outer housing. He
disembarked the vehicle that had transported him in, and made his way to the
Assault mech repair bay.
He wondered what would become of his inert mech, still out on the battlefield; only the techs could tell. An essential salvage operation was already underway. The critically damaged irreparable mechs would be scraped, their operational parts soon mounted on other damaged mechs. The bay was alive with activity. Even from a far, Edwards could make out the defined outline of the abominable Atlas. It was already docked, and had uncountable mechs scrambling all over it. As he neared closer, he could see Wallart's form exiting from the cockpit. He ran up and greeted his friend with a bone crushing bear hug. "Hey 'ol buddy, it's great to see you again! C'mon lemme buy ya a drink." They head off toward a favorite of Edwards' taverns, & were soon joined by the other members of Wallart's Lance. After a night of drinking and the lengthy telling of many tales of battle, the troops retired to their barracks.
The
harsh reality of the past battle was only now settling in on the men.
The loss of their friends to the enemy scum left a foul taste in their
mouth. The skirmish was over, but
for many, their duty was unfinished. Instead
of relaxing, retreating to the non-privacy of their confined quarters, warriors
could be found in the base gym, training, keeping fit, awaiting another chance
to get some, and avenge themselves upon the Kurita barbarians.
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