Snippet #2729609

Capt. Patrick Garside stood alone at the beginning of Main Street, surveying. He was in some plain civvies, not wanting to be drawing a lot of attention. He felt it better to approach things low-key, showing up in dress blues would raise immediate suspision.

His trained eyes swept from side to side at an alarming rate, taking note of every face, doorframe, alley, and vehicle. It was just habit for the Officer to always check ahead of his troops.

He'd survived more than his share of ambushes, and I.E.Ds.

He clipped to attention, a brisk, trained motion that garnered a strange glance from the nearby civvies. He smiled back in return, a wicked glint in his eyes, before swiveling on his heel, and striding away...

---

The sun hung lazily in the morning sky, a pleasant breeze accompanying it in from the West. It was temperate, and from every direction the sounds of life sprung. The people of Hayslem were at lesuire, and it was obvious. It had all the makings of yet another perfect day on Origin.

"HERE WE GO!" The jarring voice of a Drill Sergeant shattered that peace in a violent instant. Harsh as nails on blackboard, it echoed off of every surface outside Hayslem, clearly booosted through technical, I magical means.

People jolted, a car swerved, ears were held. Everybody looked around for the source of the racket.

"HERE WE GO!" A legion of voices errupted. They weren't boosted, but in cadence the shouting G.Is didn't need to be. Their melody would reach every ear.

Nobody knew what was going on until the rumbling started. Like the soundforce of thunder, The Fighting Second Airborne began to decend on Hayslem. The older folks who had scene war, seen demons, and batttle all seemed to shuffle back to their houses. Heads shaking warily.

"ALL THE WAY!" Again the D.I-voice boomed, auged vocals pounding against the suburb.

People were starting to get right pissed, and a few of the "bolder" twenty something's ran down the street, desperate to find the source. Those who had been millitary, any millitary, the hair on their arms bristled. For some reflex a quicker than thought, and non-existent rifles were reached for.

"ALL THE WAY!" The soldiers bellowed in unison, a little louder still. By now the "brave" men had made it all the way down Main. The shouted in surprise, but it was drowned out in an instant. The deafening drumming of three hundred, and two boots, each marching in unison was all they would hear.

Second Airborne, in all it's glory, paraded its way down Main. One-hundred, and fifty soldiers, divided into five sectioned platoons of thirty moved lock-step behind Capt. Garside. Each chin was up, jaw set, and spine straight. Every man sported an identical crew-cut, and pressed green fatigues.

"SIGNED MY NAME ON THE DOTTED LINE," Surprisingly enough the distinctive voice belonged to the man at the front. A steely gazed Patrick Garside set the pace. He had the same posture as his men, and in his Officer's Uniform he radiated authority. He clasped his hands together behind his back and the soldiers mimicked.

It was like watching synched machines. The Capt. was extremely proud of the Company's cohesion, and constantly drilled it home. Even this was a test in a way.

"SIGNED MY NAME ON THE DOTTED LINE," Each man's service Black Mamba polished to sparkle, and strapped to his hip. The only other distinguishing feature was the silver wings pinned to each chest, and the fire in his eyes.

Patrick stole sideways glances at the natives. These people were earnest, peaceful, content. Intel had been right. They even had a calm little suburb beyond their defenses. It made him question whether or not these people of Hayslem had any millitary sense. A thought for another time.

He pressed on, and each platoon matched him. They marched in two-by-two stacks, with one bringing up the rear alone. Unfortunately this meant they took up most of the street.

"ALL I DO IS'A DOUBLE TIME!" The Terran cadence sounded with vigor on Origin, each Terran proud to be a Gorgon.

They made their way through the suburb, the cadence ending once Patrick could actually see the main gates.

He came to an abrupt stop, the entire company halting behind him.

"AAAATTTEENNNTION!" Each man stood to, Capt. Garside again augmenting his voice. He needed the men, and the Hayslem guard to hear him.

He snapped a rigid salute towards the watchtowers.

"Captain Patrick Garside, Gorgon Infantry First Division: Second Regiment, First Batallion, Second Airborne Company," He craned his neck up, flashing a Devils grin just in case that could see it.

"Requesting permission to enter, in the name of R&R."