>>5715443Freya had done something she hadn't for a good long while. She prayed. Prayed to whoever would listen to the desperate woes of the Vynmarkers. To the private thoughts and hopes of a woman at the end. She'd never forgotten she could die, but still the dawn reminded her. She will die, be it today or in a thousand tomorrows. She hoped it at least be the latter.
She had looked over the new BM-2 in her platoon with some apprehension, as the rose on her lapel told all she needed to know about how safe those inside it would be. So, at the earliest she could, she gave the order to strip the gun from the Twaryian bucket and replace the 8mm on her shiny --relatively-- new tank with it. Either it would get done in time or it wouldn't. Either way, it wouldn't be much of a loss. She always had a strange sort of disdain for that small caliber...
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>Deploy V37 facing W 