Tuesday’s tale, 11/29/2016.

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Otherwise known as the “no longer sick” post. I wish the engineers and other brightest minds out there would hurry up with the cybernetics, I’m getting tired of my current body. But enough of that, it’s time to get back into the swing of things; five minutes on the clock, and away we go!

The medic’s first mistake was to drag their point man; he couldn’t have lifted him, but leaving him there and getting their rover was probably the best option.

Dragging just meant that when the body hit the hidden pressure plate, missed the first time, both the injured person and the medic got aa full dose. The medic went down with shredded legs, and well, the point man had gone from ‘probable kill’ to ’emphatic yes’.

The last man standing ducked behind the biggest rock near him, just as predicted, trying to scan both the ground and the surrounding area.

He couldn’t see the other man’s eyes widen as he realized where the trap was, but he could imagine it. A puff of dust later, and it was all over.

By the time he managed to wind his way down, the medic had stopped screaming, so he went to the man who took cover first; the dart launcher he buried in the sand had actually been enough to breach his suit and air hose both. Talk about shoddy construction. He grabbed the body and worked it around the other traps in his improvised minefield, and placed the pirate in the back of his rover.

The medic was likewise dead, with a tourniquet around one remnant of a leg, and another out. One tough mother, that was for sure. He decided the medic would be given the driver’s seat for that, and put them there.

The point man got shotgun.

When he got back, some of the local wildlife was sampling the blood and flesh; nothing he could do about that now, but hope they didn’t get a taste for it. or the diseases didn’t wipe them out or something.

And there we are! five minutes, 300 words; not too shabby. See you next week!

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Tuesday’s tale, 11/15/2016.

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Alright, another Tuesday (if a late one) and another snippet. Five minutes on the clock, and away we go!

Amateur hour started when the one taking point got close enough to his first trap; the computer read the conditions of an unfriendly suit nearby and triggered the explosive it was next to. The effect was immediate; with a muted whump he heard from his perch, hundreds of small pointed shards flew in all directions.

A good fifty or sixty at least found their target, and with that many holes ripped in his suit, even if he was still alive, he was likely dead. The fates looked kind to him, however; he dropped instantly and did not move.

His friends reacted better than he expected; one set up in a covered location while the other went to the aid of their fallen.

Blood was already staining the suit and the ground; it looked pretty pointless, but the newly dubbed medic didn’t give up, slapping quick patch on all the holes he could find in both the man and the suit.

Ugh, that’s it for this week too; following the rules sucks, I had more. Maybe next time. See you then, hopefully!

Tuesday’s tale, 11/8/2016.

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Well, this is Tuesday and vote day. I hope everyone voted, because I did, and you should all probably work against me if possible. Five minutes on the clock, and away we go:

He was waiting when they arrived at the first metal deposit. There were three of them, in a rover with a very large engine and even larger cargo bay. He snorted; the thing looked like one of those old internal combustion pickup trucks one saw in old movies.

His own rover was parked behind him, behind an outcropping his soon to be victims likely wouldn’t check. He was stomach down behind another such spur of rock, binoculars out and trained on the site. He knew it would be too good to pass up; which made it perfect to trap.

As expected, they were lax. Oh they still had their weapons out and were looking around, but they didn’t fan out much and it was clear they hadn’t used any surface scanning equipment to try and find him. They didn’t expect much from only one man, it seemed.

That made them amateurs.

And that’s it; Time is at 5 minutes exactly. I didn’t get as much as I wanted, but I guess I can’t win all the time. See you all next week!

Tuesday’s Tale, 11/01/2016.

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Alright, Halloween is over and I’m sad to see the season go; at the same time, I’m happy I survived another one. So, five minutes on that clock, and we continue where we left off in September:

He panned across the plain, his helmet’s optics doing the work of binoculars, even rubbed dirty as it was.

there were more than he’d originally thought there could be; fifteen, by eyeball and comms count. They were currently spreading out and setting up sensors, securing the area.

It wouldn’t do to be seen, or worse, try anything now. They were too alert and would be on him in seconds. He had even spotted the tell-tale shape of fragmentation grenades carried by a few of what clearly had to be pirates; he wasn’t even dealing with run of the mill claim jumpers here, just the dregs.

It was disappointing, but not anything he hadn’t faced before. Even calculating the landing had been easy; they had just chosen the laziest spot to touch down at, very close to the richest ore deposits. As expected; it was a pity he hadn’t had time to seed the site beforehand with some surprises.

He grinned. He would just have to have his fun with those surprises elsewhere.

And there we have it, this week’s instalment, which took 4 minutes and 39 seconds. See you later, party people!