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3/31/2025, 1:47:40 PM
The man looks like he’s come straight out of a calendar they give away to tourists at some tropical paradise, one with a great deal less insects and artillery and a great deal more mimosas and beachfronts. You don’t know how he’s managed to keep his luxurious golden mane pristine in the jungle undergrowth, or how the applied camo paint seems to accentuate his chiselled features rather than muddy him. Fucker doesn’t even have helmet hair.
“Goldie? What in Clayton’s Crotch are you doing out here??” You don’t even try to keep the surprise out of your voice.
“Hssk. How is leg? Hssk.” Husk rasps, referring to Goldie’s injury during your raid of the Yibrak research station.
“Yeah, last we saw your prettyboy face you were lying on your front eating ice cream.” Convict smirks, which again is more of a grimace-variant. He holds his fingers up in air quotations. “ ‘Doctor’s Orders’, was it?”
“Good as new, real glad ya’ll talked the LT into forking out for a proper regrowth rather than slapping on a rickety old cyborg implant.” Trooper Goldie pats his left leg with an odd degree of abashment, given that under the Krieger fatigues looks identical to his right. “I’m just uh, keeping the ol’ moneymaker out of sight until the tan lines even out, knowhatimsaying?”
“You vain prick.” Convict chuckles “Who’re you rolling with anyways?”
“Some of the boys from the 63rd .” Goldie jerks a thumb behind him where the rest of the column is filing through, escorted by some of your hand-picked jungle trained rebels on either side. “What’s left of ‘em anyways. It was a bumpy ride on the way down I tell you what.”
“Tell us more, the 63rd was due three months ago.” Your Second asks in his typical tone, direct as always.
“Yeah and we were here three months ago. Had a whole bag of tricks for you and everything.” Goldie’s blasé shrug brushes off months of no logistics on your end. “We came in with the Savis fleet ramping up the blockade, but still a few gaps for us to make the run. We didn’t get the memo about the Peckies lying low in those gaps though, took out some our shuttles before we made it planetside and lost ‘em in one of the dust storms. Man are -those- nasty, none of our rides were in shape after that.”
You count two-squads worth of Kriegers, and Crane must have noticed the same. There’s also the usual complement of random rebels they must have picked up trekking here, as well as three fairly lost looking Company pilots.
[3/4]
“Goldie? What in Clayton’s Crotch are you doing out here??” You don’t even try to keep the surprise out of your voice.
“Hssk. How is leg? Hssk.” Husk rasps, referring to Goldie’s injury during your raid of the Yibrak research station.
“Yeah, last we saw your prettyboy face you were lying on your front eating ice cream.” Convict smirks, which again is more of a grimace-variant. He holds his fingers up in air quotations. “ ‘Doctor’s Orders’, was it?”
“Good as new, real glad ya’ll talked the LT into forking out for a proper regrowth rather than slapping on a rickety old cyborg implant.” Trooper Goldie pats his left leg with an odd degree of abashment, given that under the Krieger fatigues looks identical to his right. “I’m just uh, keeping the ol’ moneymaker out of sight until the tan lines even out, knowhatimsaying?”
“You vain prick.” Convict chuckles “Who’re you rolling with anyways?”
“Some of the boys from the 63rd .” Goldie jerks a thumb behind him where the rest of the column is filing through, escorted by some of your hand-picked jungle trained rebels on either side. “What’s left of ‘em anyways. It was a bumpy ride on the way down I tell you what.”
“Tell us more, the 63rd was due three months ago.” Your Second asks in his typical tone, direct as always.
“Yeah and we were here three months ago. Had a whole bag of tricks for you and everything.” Goldie’s blasé shrug brushes off months of no logistics on your end. “We came in with the Savis fleet ramping up the blockade, but still a few gaps for us to make the run. We didn’t get the memo about the Peckies lying low in those gaps though, took out some our shuttles before we made it planetside and lost ‘em in one of the dust storms. Man are -those- nasty, none of our rides were in shape after that.”
You count two-squads worth of Kriegers, and Crane must have noticed the same. There’s also the usual complement of random rebels they must have picked up trekking here, as well as three fairly lost looking Company pilots.
[3/4]
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