Pasters and Rattaglio were still back at the fence with their SAWâs, forming the combined teamâs base of fire. As the Aschen landed, Pasters then moved directly besides Rattaglio as the two SAW gunners exchanged briefly. âAlright Iâve got eyes on the Aschen.â Rattalgio said, soon pulling his helmet off to give him a better view of the battlefield. He then drew the stock of the SAW into his shoulder, looking through the open sight as they began to move on the second MG position.
âShit, theyâre movinâ up!â Pasters barked as the two machinegunners noticed the Aschen dropping prone. When they did, Pasters began to fire directly over their heads, making sure to fire in short, controlled bursts. âCover them up to the MG position, donât let that fucker get a round on them!â
On the other side of the Governorâs Mansion, Staff Sergeant Duncan and Specialist Kjelsson finished dragging the wounded Private Stentlon into the trench. Stentlon held his thigh with two gloved hands, cursing angrily through his teeth when he was dumped into the trench. âAwh, fuck Sergeant!â
âKeep beinâ miffed about it Private, might treat yaâ at the pub later.â Duncan remarked, leaning himself against the trench and pulling free the magazine of his MP-24. Checking the stack of 9x20mm cartridges, he then slammed it back home again and charged the weapon once more. âDonât bleed out there mate, Kjelsson, make sure he gets a medic for that dinger.â
Just as he finished reloading his weapon, another fireteam of marines jumped down into the trench with them. Taking their positions, the marines laid themselves against the back lip of the trench and popped off with rifle fire onto any surviving militia that still tried to engage them.
âSergeant, I think the Aschen landed on the other side of the mansion!â Lance Corporal Teofil shouted, then returning to snap off rounds at a pair of gunmen positioned near a great, sprawling tree. Just then, they all heard the distinct bark of disruptor fire and the unmistakable din of a plasma grenade.
âRight lads, Iâll be away for a bit - gonnaâ make a trip to the neighbors. Donât burn the house down boys!â Duncan said, and then sharply hauled himself up and out of the trench onto his stomach. Belly crawling his way across the lawn, he was sure to use the bushes and avoid any stray rifle fire as he neared the other trench.
Approaching the lip of the trench, Duncan coughed through the stench of ozone and carbon before shouting out to the Aschen. âGreen, boys! Mind if I come on?â He yelled out, soon prying his head over the charred lip of the trench with a bright grin across his face. âWelcome to the cock-up, lads!â He began, reaching up to pluck a pack of cigarettes from his ballistic vest jacket and then toss it down onto the charred floor of the trench amongst the men.