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The radio whirs. A blur of signal messages appears on the radar screen. It looks like a seizing smile. You feel the warmth of the cannon's bracket mount rubbing against your leather boots. The air smells of gun oil. You lower your goggles and peer out over the horizon. A purple mountain lurches in the distance. You know that's where battle station omega is, but you can't see the cannons from here. You bite your lip expectingly. Hoping to see the yellow flash of combat. The signs of struggle are for you the only sign anyone else is alive. But no thunder cracks the sky. All is quiet for now. Maybe you should radio command just to free yourself from isolation.
