Des Grieux knew nothing about that. Despite his shock harness, his head slammed sideways into the map display so that he shut down an instant before his tank did.
Existence was a pulsing red blur until Des Grieux opened his eyes. The pulsing continued every time his heart beat, but now he could see real light: the tiny yellow beads of
The air in the fighting compartment was hot and foul. When the power went off, so did the air conditioning. The expended 20cm casings on the floor continued to radiate heat and complex gases.
Des Grieux reached for the reset switch to bring
His mouth tasted of blood, and there seemed to be a layer of ground glass between his eyes and their lids.
"Blood and martyrs,"Des Grieux whispered.The taste in his mouth came from his tongue, which had swollen to twice its normal size because he had bitten it.
When the world ceased throbbing and his stomach settled again, Des Grieux finished his movement to the reset switch. Pain just meant you were alive. If you were alive, you could do for the bastard who'd done
The snarl of powerguns dimly penetrated to the tank's interior. Neither of the indig forces had powerguns of their own. Either the Slammers had entered Morobad, or Baffin had committed his Legion to exploit the ratfuck the Black Banner Guards had made when they tried to follow
Des Grieux knew which alternative
"Booster," Des Grieux said. His injured tongue slurred his words. "Order of Battle on Number One."
Screen #1, the left-hand unit, came up with the map of Morobad Des Grieux had ordered onto it before the crash and shutdown.The new overlay showed Des Grieux just what he'd bloody expected, the orange symbols of Legion vehicles streaming through the town and fanning out when they crossed the canal.
This was no feint or stiffening force. Baffin was committing his entire battalion-strength command to end the war here on the Western Wing.
"Like bloody hell . . ." Des Grieux muttered. "Driver! Report!"
Nothing. "Pesco?"