the battle of NT-999-XX

Doc Orion looked at the caked, baked, taped, semi functional P4-AR riffle in his hands and felt disgusted. He walked over to the trench and reflected on his desolate surroundings. He had always hated NT-999-XX with its dystopian, curious carnage. Like blanket of pigeons carrying disease at a tea party. A collection of outworlders dancing to dub trance country music eating cheesy rocks between rotten polymer teeth... It was a place that encouraged him to feel disgusted and cold....

Doc was a Disciplined whisky drinker with a barely functioning liver and riffle and little ammo. He also packed a coda pistol as backup but questioned if it would even work in these extreme temperatures. His friends called him Doc on account that he always had a Medipen© or two up his sleeve.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Lt. Unlucky Seven. Seven was an experienced soldier with agile strength and a great sense of humor and comradery . Doc and Seven had become good friends during there time together huddled in foxholes, telling each other old earth jokes and stories to pass the time. Time passed slowly in those foxholes....

Doc sighed. He glanced at his medipens© . His friends saw him glance at the medipens© and frowned .

Once, he had used the medipens© to try and revive a dying, wounded soldier with ion blast crater holes the size of Lorvile-Scottish golf pucks in what remained of his chest,

like a sadistic funk twerk performed by moon strippers on a hungover yela skunk on sunday..... it was bad..... Not even a soldier named Doc could revive that dying soldier in that god forsaken frozen place they started calling fur hill (for no apparent reason).

The nuclear snow teased like running super ion treated plasma on sandy beach, making the local wild life more violent then it already was. Like a purple ice Croxile toasting a party of savage retirees and a pudding party. As Doc stepped outside of the foxhole, Lt. Unlucky came closer, he could see the important smile on his face. "Everyone is getting ready for the final push," Lt. Unlucky bellowed, in a battlehardend tone. He offered Doc a Smoke from his pack and lit one himself. "I frigging love this place" he said. Doc looked back, even more disgusted and still fingering and inspecting the barely functional P4-AR riffle in his lap. "Lt, your crazy, i dont think we are going to live long in this place" he replied. They looked at each other with crooked smiles on their face, like two buddies, dying at a very unlikeable war, they had heavy metal music playing in the background and shells dropping all around them exploding to the beat. Doc studied Lt. Unlucky. Eventually, he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, but I cant die here today," he explained, in pathetic tones. Lt. Unlucky looked grumpy, his face raw with anger like a space badger landing in a pile of thundergeese eating french fries at a tween birthday party.

And then it happend........a thud....a flash of light....... Doc could actually hear Lt's body shatter into 2672 pieces or there abouts.

and then Darkness....The experience of that battle remains with him to this day.

some say when everything is silent, he can still hear the sound of his friend being blown away into the distance. Not even a drink of whisky would calm Doc's nerves on those nights. THE END