Mark Edgemond - thinking about expansion...

[Therin]

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The chopper roared upwards into the sky. Mark Edgemond clutched his gun to the chest of his power suit as he jounced around in the chopper on this, his first live mission. The gun was a huge, military issue jumper, far too massive to be used without the power suit. It stood as high as Mark and weighed somewhere on the order of two tons, most of the weight made up of compressed smart circuits. Guiding intelligence, zooming, automatic distance calibration, wind correction, all surrounded a barrel bigger around than Mark's arm and longer than Mark's leg and a firing mechanism crammed with enough power to launch one of the massive energy-slugs all the way to the sun. What space was not taken by smart circuits was comprised of miniscule channels of refined phason, flowing around the gun and past the small inductors at the base of the barrel. Static radiation built up around the inductors until the charge was ready, and when the firing mechanism was activated, the random firings and charges of bouncing energy were all focused in a dingle direction, rocketing down the barrel and out towards their designated target at near light speed. An energy-slug. Once a slug hit its target, there was usually nothing left. Impact triggered a chain reaction resulting in a contained, but extremely concentrated explosion of heat. The veterans, what few there were, called it liquid sun.

The chopper started hovering and Mark jolted out of his reverie. Remembering his training, he threw himself out the side door, taking his gun with him. He had 2 miles to get the gun fixed to the arm of his suit or it would be crushed by the planetside impact. Most of it was spent using his arms as air foils to hold himself in one position so that the gun's magnetic seals could latch onto the arm of his suit, but from there it got rougher. He landed on his feet, mechanisms in the boots of the suit absorming the immense impact, with the gun braced on his back. Then he brought the gun down off his back, cradled the barrel in his free arm, and brought up the targeting display on his visor. Crosshairs whirled onto the screen and the hill in front of him faded into wireframe as information downloaded from the command ship superimposed itself in Mark's vision. A collection of wireframe buildings, all surrounded by a bright red halo. An enemy military installment. Mark manuvered his gun until its crosshairs on the visor were centered on the nearest of the buildings and fired. Obeying his ingrained training, Mark didn't wait to see if his shot was successful, but immediately centered his crosshairs on the next building and fired. Then the next, and the next. By the time his first shot hit the first building, the fifth or sixth was already leaving the gun. It was hard to keep exact count.

Suddenly, a swarm of red blips erupted from one of the buildings Mark hadn't targeted yet, spreading like liquids in a vacuum. Soon, though they stopped spreading and began their coordinated attack. Mark hoped his support would hold up. More than a thousand of the small robots swarmed over the hill seperating Mark from the base, diamond-tipped claws clicking together as they ran. Mark's arms were shaking with nerves now, but he kept firing, retargeting, and firing again, praying under his breath. Please let them be on time. The robots got closer. Shit. they were late. He was going to die, he knew it. There was no way he could deal with the multithousand robots that were now less than one hundred feet from stabbing his eyes out through his visor with those wicked claws, or ripping his midsection open to let his insides sizzle on the torn circuits of his suit. Suddenly, one robot accelerated far out in front of the others, covering the distance in the space of a couple of seconds. Mark stared at it with terrified loathing. It leapt. Mark flinched and screwed his eyes shut reflexively.

Something thumped onto the ground behind him as an antiarmor shell roared past his helmet, then another something, and another. Marks eyes opened and he looked back behind him to see the blessed sight of the forty-fifth infantry division, guns blazing as they ran forward to surround him with protective fire. Mark realized his helmet was chattering with commands and talk. One of the infantrymen put his gun up and walked toward Mark. Mark's visor identified the suit as belonging to the commander of the forty-fifth.

"Nice shot, huh?" Cracked into his ear. Mark smiled weakly and nodded. "Took the bugger less than an inch from your faceplate. God I love this job!"

The commander turned back to her circle of soldiers, took her place, and resumed firing to keep the robotic enemies away. Mark shivered and, with a supreme effort, got himself under control and resumed his artillery fire. Building after building erupted in red blips as Mark's shots touched down, but the forty-fifth held them off without much trouble at all. The commander barked occasional orders over the radio, but for the most part, the battalion took care of itself, ripping into the billions of insectile robots with the precision and speed born of long practice.

Tell me what you think...should I expand it? If I do, where should I go?

[Lanfear57]

expand. tell who other peeps are. esp. commander. tell why for many things. develop story, maybe flashbacks