The cold wind blew through the ruins growing out into the sky from the ash desert. The leeches at High Command had ordered your platoon to move through the desolate hell to reach a point of interest the survivors from the previous suicide trip reported. They had graciously provided yours with barely enough supplies and hover vehicles to ensure operational self sufficiency. You swore at them under your breath once again.

As your squad glided between two broken concrete monoliths which seemed to reach as high as the clouds, you turned and asked your Navigation Engineer:

“What’s our ETA Kara?”

“At our current speed we will be arriving at the beacon in T-minus 20 minutes sir.” She responded.

“Good, keep your eyes open. Scavs tore the other expedition into shreds, there might be hostiles in the area.” You replied.

You looked back at the viewing panels, giving you a panoramic view of the land the hover-APC was zooming past. The usual ruined buildings and cities that looked like a particularly spiky tumour of steel and concrete no longer seemed to be as common as it was 2 hours ago. The rare pillars that went up to the atmosphere now were far enough into the horizon that it would take at least half a day for you to get to the base of the column with your convoy.

Straight ahead you saw the ever present ash desert, the grey sea only got illuminated with occasional flashes of a rad storm brewing up off-pink lightning. If you weren’t inside the APC the smell of ozone would be overwhelming, since you were, the only smell was disinfectant and iron.