Abrams his head up through the commanders hatch and lays his arm on the gun. Aerrid is dry, with blistering heat. He lifts his oxygen mask to his face and takes a few breaths. The air here doesn't contain enough oxygen. Their tanks, however, seem to have no trouble.
"Captain Kurt M. Abrams? Congratulations on your promotion. This is Ground Forces Commander Colonel Monash, 2nd Battalion B Company is requesting armor support with Objective Alpha, C Company is requesting for Objective C,"
"Copy," he says, "Obelisk Actual to First and Second platoons, split off with B Company, attack Objective Alpha, Third Platoon, help C Company with Objective C,"
"Obelisk 1-0 Complying,"
"Obelisk 2-0 Copies, out,"
"Copy, Obelisk 3-0 is complying, out,"
He put down his mask and thought some.
"Siegebreaker 4-0, and 4-1, detach to 1st Platoon, assist them with Objective Alpha, Siege 4-2 detach and form with 3rd Platoon,"
"Siegebreaker complies,"
He thought for another moment.
"Montag 451, detach and form with 1st Platoon, 452 and 453, detach and form with 3rd Platoon,"
"Montag complies..." Molotov said in his unsettling voice.
He watched as the world around began to fill with roars and thunder. The tanks around him began moving. Abrams observed the world around him. Blistering, dusty, rocky, and oddly beautiful. Great clouds of dust could bee seen a mile or two away where the platoons had begun rolling.
"GFC to Obelisk Actual, following support is available from the BBCVAS, direct fire, missile, Snubnose runs, Vogel drones,"
"Copy GFC,"
There was another moment for which he paused.
"Jonesy, take us to A Platoon," he said over the roar of turbines.
"Yessir!" The driver replied, shifting the tank into gear and sending it lumbering forward.
He took one last breath from his oxygen mask and dropped back into the tank, slamming the hatch shut behind him. He now sat looking through the cupola.
