The not so great raid
Subject: Col. Edward Roman
Time:0209
Date:July 13, 2210
Location:Disclosed
The Union was the ultimate force in the entire galaxy. Whole planets and star systems fell before it. Alien races were wiped out almost continually, sometimes overnight. So how in the hell were these hillbillies still able to survive them?
The Colonel was in his prime. He had whole units serving under him. Divisions of Ironclads were at his command. A nice house, a loving wife, and a stable full of fine imported quarter horses and studs. And he hadn't even reached his 25th birthday yet. But all that seemed only a comfort as currently he was standing guard with his men at one of the two Union's newly constructed Ironclad factories. For the past five days the factory had been running nonstop. So far twelve ironclads were in the production stages, eight were awaiting final inspection, and three were being field tested.
But the machines would truly be tested tonight as he got word that a certain confederate rider was on his way over to attempt an assault. He was a dangerous one too, as the col. knew him all to well.
"Sir, we received word from our scouts that the enemy is five miles out and closing."
"ETA?"
"We have around fifteen minutes."
"Prepare the ironclads, take your positions, and turn off the spotlights. Let's find out if they're foolish enough to try and catch us by surprise."
The private saluted him and ran off to carry his orders. A few minutes later the entire force of 125 men lined up evenly around the entire perimeter of the factory's twenty foot tall walls. Behind the walls metal giants maneuvered themselves gingerly through a crowd of scientists and siege weapon operators. Cannons, mortars, and even crude catapults were dispersed through the grounds. Colonel Roman took count. 90 men armed with winchesters and laser rifles, 10 had piledrivers,15 with heavy machineguns, and five with R.O.G.U.E. rifles. Intel told him the rider's company consisted only of a ragtag band of defectors, traitors, and inbred dimwits.
But the Intel was wrong.
When it came to Samuel Colt nothing was ever concrete. The five times they met on the battlefield it always came down to the wire. The score so far was Samuel leading 3/2. The last encounter they had was forty five days earlier, at the battle of Lettoko's Shadow. It was dawn, the day growing brighter as the figures each company had in front of each other grew clearer. The Intel then had showed that Colt had only forty men with him that night. The truth was far graver as a total of 200 men were overpowering Lt. Smith's company of only 60. Their advanced weaponry had kept them alive during the night, but in the daylight the confederates held the advantage as they had no need for clunky night vision goggles. Were he to arrive another half hour late with reinforcements Lt. Smith wouldn't be alive today to be waiting in the shadows for the signal to ambush the attacking force.
Thunder rumbled far off to the southwest as lightning flashed now and again. The breeze that came up suddenly turned into a short violent gust that made more than one soldier lose his hat. But they remained unflinching as Roman scared them straight with talks of how the raptors that sided with Colt always, always preferred their meat fresh and squirming.
"Sir," the private whispered,"off to the right. I see them coming."
End of part 1.
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