04-14-2013, 12:32 PM
![[Image: JiangXi-AboardBarricade_zps493a98c5.png]](http://i1230.photobucket.com/albums/ee482/Commissar1/JiangXi-AboardBarricade_zps493a98c5.png)
Akira's notepad was slammed shut with a hollow snap, the sound lost in the torrent of wind that rushed through Barricade's open cargo bay. Unsecured bags slid a few metres down the walkway, shocked owners dashing to catch them before they reached the Commissar's foot. A faint pressure against her leg served as a reminder of her own equipment's presence, a meagre backpack tossed together in the hour before the shuttle's departure. Not for the first time, she wished she'd had more time to pack.
Conversations in the gunship died faster than a Corsair in a room of bounty hunters as Kirov hoisted a Militsonyer off his feet, throwing the horrified soldier from the transport. Akira gave him a half-nod as he staggered past, searching the man's eyes, trying to gauge his conviction in the half-second he hovered in her view, staggering between the Commissar and the landing ramp. Then he was gone, vanishing into the hurricane of dust and leaves thrown up by the Storm's engines. If there was a scream, it was quickly swallowed by the wind.
Grillix was the next to go, tossed unceremoniously from the ship like a bag of offal from Oyaka's docks. No, this was nothing like life in a house military. Nothing like life as a Freelancer. Nothing like any life the Recruits had ever experienced. Faces fell across the troop bay as the smarter soldiers began to realise, finally, just how out of their depth they were. Denial was typically the overriding emotion. Akira had experienced that same confused sea of questions two years ago, floating alone in the Siberian Ice Field, a leaky space suit and gutted Dromedary her only shields from the cold embrace of the vacuum. The environment might have changed, but the self-doubt was always the same. No. I can't do this. Why am I here? They can't really be doing this to us...
Now, she stood separately from the militsiya, not quite one of them, and yet not one of Kirov's assessors. Something in between. A strange little anomaly, sitting in a tight ball in the Storm's cargo bay as each shudder of the gunship sent another pulse of pain racing up her spine. Though she saw doubt reflected in the faces of the others, she felt only a dull resignation in her chest. She would fight. She would survive. Because there was no alternative. Survivors and corpses. Akira clenched her jaw as another gale buffeted Barricade. She would not be a corpse.
Kirov stepped back from the landing ramp, smiling like a child at the pet store who had just been told all the animals were his to keep. Something gray flashed behind the Commissar, and it took Akira a moment to realise it was the sky, revealed for a moment the Storm pitched down, fighting another gust of wind, before settling back in to a level hover. Through a gap between Kirov and the jeep, Akira caught her first glimpse of JiangXi.
A putrid patchwork of stunted plant life, bare soil, and muddied water - barely distinguishable from the land around it - stretched across the choked landscape like a tumor. Water on most planets was, if not clear, then at least inviting; a welcome break in the terrain. JiangXi's radioactive swamps were nothing of the sort. Brown and still, flooded where what passed for rainfall here had forced the pools to burst their banks, the twisted landscape before her couldn't have been further removed from the oceans of her childhood. Spasms of motion in the undergrowth hinted at unseen creatures, taking shelter from the hovering Storm and its thunderous engines. A small fragment of her wondered how long they would remain hidden once the gunship departed. The rest of her was busy deciding whether or not the next drop site would be any better. Unlikely. The Coalition wasn't renowned for its love of reluctance. Akira had no doubt that any recruit that dawdled too long on the dropship would find its last stop at the barrel of a Commissar's pistol.
Kirov folded her arms across her ample chest, growing impatient. It wouldn't be long before someone else was personally introduced to the mud of JiangXi. It's good a time as any. At least the drop is short. Akira doubted her spine could withstand a parachute insertion. Her fingers grasped at clips, undoing her harness and hoisting herself to her feat, grasping the jeep for support. Better to go now then wait and give the doubts of two years ago time to return. Besides, the marsh would make the first two recruits easy to track.
"I volunteer, Major." Her voice was snatched away by the wind, and Kirov scowled in her direction. "I said, I volunteer!" A few recruits shied away from her. What sort of madman volunteered to set foot on JiangXi?
She staggered a little as the Storm rocked in the wind, keeping a hand on the jeep for support. Eyes followed her slow progress down the landing bay, pack slung over her shoulder and rifle held awkwardly in one hand. There was pity in some of them. Akira kept her attention fixed on Kirov. She wouldn't do the recruits the favor of meeting their gaze, validating their sympathy. Akira hated the attention. Hated being the weak one. Her hands curled into fists, white knuckles standing out against her flesh. They would learn. Raw strength counted for little on JiangXi. She dodged around a brown-haired woman standing near the landing ramp. Though she wore no insignia, the confidence in her eyes and scars on her body marked her as a Coalition veteran. Akira was within a metre of Kirov now, the Commissar's gaze tracking her. Akira tightened her grip on her weapon.
"I volunteer." She repeated, slinging her pack over her other shoulder. Her spine gave a tremor of discomfort. "I'll see you at New Hangzhou."
Conversations in the gunship died faster than a Corsair in a room of bounty hunters as Kirov hoisted a Militsonyer off his feet, throwing the horrified soldier from the transport. Akira gave him a half-nod as he staggered past, searching the man's eyes, trying to gauge his conviction in the half-second he hovered in her view, staggering between the Commissar and the landing ramp. Then he was gone, vanishing into the hurricane of dust and leaves thrown up by the Storm's engines. If there was a scream, it was quickly swallowed by the wind.
Grillix was the next to go, tossed unceremoniously from the ship like a bag of offal from Oyaka's docks. No, this was nothing like life in a house military. Nothing like life as a Freelancer. Nothing like any life the Recruits had ever experienced. Faces fell across the troop bay as the smarter soldiers began to realise, finally, just how out of their depth they were. Denial was typically the overriding emotion. Akira had experienced that same confused sea of questions two years ago, floating alone in the Siberian Ice Field, a leaky space suit and gutted Dromedary her only shields from the cold embrace of the vacuum. The environment might have changed, but the self-doubt was always the same. No. I can't do this. Why am I here? They can't really be doing this to us...
Now, she stood separately from the militsiya, not quite one of them, and yet not one of Kirov's assessors. Something in between. A strange little anomaly, sitting in a tight ball in the Storm's cargo bay as each shudder of the gunship sent another pulse of pain racing up her spine. Though she saw doubt reflected in the faces of the others, she felt only a dull resignation in her chest. She would fight. She would survive. Because there was no alternative. Survivors and corpses. Akira clenched her jaw as another gale buffeted Barricade. She would not be a corpse.
Kirov stepped back from the landing ramp, smiling like a child at the pet store who had just been told all the animals were his to keep. Something gray flashed behind the Commissar, and it took Akira a moment to realise it was the sky, revealed for a moment the Storm pitched down, fighting another gust of wind, before settling back in to a level hover. Through a gap between Kirov and the jeep, Akira caught her first glimpse of JiangXi.
A putrid patchwork of stunted plant life, bare soil, and muddied water - barely distinguishable from the land around it - stretched across the choked landscape like a tumor. Water on most planets was, if not clear, then at least inviting; a welcome break in the terrain. JiangXi's radioactive swamps were nothing of the sort. Brown and still, flooded where what passed for rainfall here had forced the pools to burst their banks, the twisted landscape before her couldn't have been further removed from the oceans of her childhood. Spasms of motion in the undergrowth hinted at unseen creatures, taking shelter from the hovering Storm and its thunderous engines. A small fragment of her wondered how long they would remain hidden once the gunship departed. The rest of her was busy deciding whether or not the next drop site would be any better. Unlikely. The Coalition wasn't renowned for its love of reluctance. Akira had no doubt that any recruit that dawdled too long on the dropship would find its last stop at the barrel of a Commissar's pistol.
Kirov folded her arms across her ample chest, growing impatient. It wouldn't be long before someone else was personally introduced to the mud of JiangXi. It's good a time as any. At least the drop is short. Akira doubted her spine could withstand a parachute insertion. Her fingers grasped at clips, undoing her harness and hoisting herself to her feat, grasping the jeep for support. Better to go now then wait and give the doubts of two years ago time to return. Besides, the marsh would make the first two recruits easy to track.
"I volunteer, Major." Her voice was snatched away by the wind, and Kirov scowled in her direction. "I said, I volunteer!" A few recruits shied away from her. What sort of madman volunteered to set foot on JiangXi?
She staggered a little as the Storm rocked in the wind, keeping a hand on the jeep for support. Eyes followed her slow progress down the landing bay, pack slung over her shoulder and rifle held awkwardly in one hand. There was pity in some of them. Akira kept her attention fixed on Kirov. She wouldn't do the recruits the favor of meeting their gaze, validating their sympathy. Akira hated the attention. Hated being the weak one. Her hands curled into fists, white knuckles standing out against her flesh. They would learn. Raw strength counted for little on JiangXi. She dodged around a brown-haired woman standing near the landing ramp. Though she wore no insignia, the confidence in her eyes and scars on her body marked her as a Coalition veteran. Akira was within a metre of Kirov now, the Commissar's gaze tracking her. Akira tightened her grip on her weapon.
"I volunteer." She repeated, slinging her pack over her other shoulder. Her spine gave a tremor of discomfort. "I'll see you at New Hangzhou."
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![[Image: JiangXi-Deadlands_zps1af4b71d.png]](http://i1230.photobucket.com/albums/ee482/Commissar1/Miyagi%20Akira/JiangXi-Deadlands_zps1af4b71d.png)